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CHESNUT TREES NEAR BRAGA.
WRITTEN BEFORE THE ABOLITION OF MONASTERIES IN PORTUGAL.
Old sylvans in a land of monks,
Your moss-furr'd boughs, and wrinkled trunks
All hollow from their roots,
Would speak you worn-out serfs of Time;
Yet fresh, as if in tree-hood's prime,
You bear your leaves and fruit.
Your moss-furr'd boughs, and wrinkled trunks
All hollow from their roots,
Would speak you worn-out serfs of Time;
Yet fresh, as if in tree-hood's prime,
You bear your leaves and fruit.
Yon Elders of the Cowl, who dwell
Like worms within the kernell'd shell,
In choice monastic nooks,
This moral of your green old age,
Might deign to learn from Nature's page,
The second-best of books.
Like worms within the kernell'd shell,
In choice monastic nooks,
20
Might deign to learn from Nature's page,
The second-best of books.
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