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142
ON AN OLD ASH TREE,
NEAR THE SITE OF A FORMER VILLAGE AND DESECRATED CHAPEL IN LONDESBOROUGH PARK.
O ancient ash-tree, shattered, gnarled, contorted,But living still, what tales thou hast to tell
Since in thy shade at call of holy bell,
Hither for prayer the villagers resorted—
Where long the deer have ranged, the lambs disported:
No cottage smoke now curls from this green dell,
No chapel lifts its cross; but by the swell
Of falling waters the lone ear is courted.
Man's home and name and memory fade away,
While still, like hoary Time, this ash survives;
But from the Cross has fallen a cheering ray
Beyond the limit of these narrow lives;
Not all of man decays before a tree—
We pass—to our immortal destiny!
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