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THE HERMIT TREE.
Within a meadow's green-clad zone,
I stand upon the hill alone,
And far and near a name is known
That clings to me:
With branches vaulting proudly high,
And finger pointing at the sky,
A landmark to the world am I:
The Hermit Tree!
I stand upon the hill alone,
And far and near a name is known
That clings to me:
With branches vaulting proudly high,
And finger pointing at the sky,
A landmark to the world am I:
The Hermit Tree!
And trav'lers from the woodlands, gaze
Through summer suns and snowy days,
To where my flags a signal raise
That all may see:
Ah many a loftier one doth bide
(With comrades round on every side),
That falls beneath, in fame and pride,
The Hermit Tree!
Through summer suns and snowy days,
To where my flags a signal raise
That all may see:
Ah many a loftier one doth bide
(With comrades round on every side),
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The Hermit Tree!
No sun-burned cattle pass me by:
But dreamily they stand or lie
Within the shade that hovers nigh
My towering form;
Fair maids accost me with a smile,
And 'mid my branches hours beguile,
Or bid me shelter them awhile
From sun or storm;
But dreamily they stand or lie
Within the shade that hovers nigh
My towering form;
Fair maids accost me with a smile,
And 'mid my branches hours beguile,
Or bid me shelter them awhile
From sun or storm;
The birds will haste with spring-time zest,
Each eager that she build her nest
Upon my branch she loves the best;
And in his flight,
Full oft a feathered trav'ler may
Go somewhat from his nearest way,
For nothing but that he can stay
With me a night.
Each eager that she build her nest
Upon my branch she loves the best;
And in his flight,
Full oft a feathered trav'ler may
Go somewhat from his nearest way,
For nothing but that he can stay
With me a night.
And it doth oft the memory rouse,
That lovers 'neath my trusted boughs
Have pledged their sweetly solemn vows,
In night's dim noon;
While, sailing through the mists above,
As if a silent-flying dove,
Peers 'twixt my leaves that queen of love,
The changing moon.
That lovers 'neath my trusted boughs
Have pledged their sweetly solemn vows,
In night's dim noon;
While, sailing through the mists above,
As if a silent-flying dove,
Peers 'twixt my leaves that queen of love,
The changing moon.
No word of hate! no rival near!
No enemy to face or fear!
What life of better, grander cheer—
From trouble free?
As flits the swiftly gliding day,
On my deep-rooted throne I stay,
A king to all who pass that way;
Glad Hermit Tree!
No enemy to face or fear!
What life of better, grander cheer—
From trouble free?
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On my deep-rooted throne I stay,
A king to all who pass that way;
Glad Hermit Tree!
But often, when the world has gone to rest,
The sun is sailing far behind the west,
And darkness all the landscape has possessed,
Then I alone
Stand brooding o'er the days that once I knew,
When comrades all around me smiled and grew,
And some of them their arms in friendship threw
Across my own.
The sun is sailing far behind the west,
And darkness all the landscape has possessed,
Then I alone
Stand brooding o'er the days that once I knew,
When comrades all around me smiled and grew,
And some of them their arms in friendship threw
Across my own.
We whispered words no mortals understood,
And gossiped of their goings bad and good,
And of our neighbor-comrades of the wood;
And to us crept
Oft, news of forests that were far away,
And what their tribes of trees would do and say;
And seldom closed our converse, night or day,
Save as we slept.
And gossiped of their goings bad and good,
And of our neighbor-comrades of the wood;
And to us crept
Oft, news of forests that were far away,
And what their tribes of trees would do and say;
And seldom closed our converse, night or day,
Save as we slept.
When storms were leaping through the angry sky,
And fiercely pealed the lightning's battle-cry,
And the swift gale's shrill monologue reply
Came to us near,
With loyalty's assembled hardihood,
Shoulder to shoulder 'gainst the storm we stood,
The tall undaunted giants of the wood!
And laughed at fear.
And fiercely pealed the lightning's battle-cry,
And the swift gale's shrill monologue reply
Came to us near,
With loyalty's assembled hardihood,
Shoulder to shoulder 'gainst the storm we stood,
The tall undaunted giants of the wood!
And laughed at fear.
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And there was one sweet one I loved o'er-well,
And to her heart love's legends oft would tell:
But oh the fearful fate that her befel—
Too winsome, she!
O'er-soon, in hands of men more wise than strong,
The gleaming axes sang her funeral song;
And with a scream of sorrow loud and long,
She passed from me.
And to her heart love's legends oft would tell:
But oh the fearful fate that her befel—
Too winsome, she!
O'er-soon, in hands of men more wise than strong,
The gleaming axes sang her funeral song;
And with a scream of sorrow loud and long,
She passed from me.
Thus one by one my friends were swept away:
As cunning was the woodman's hand to slay
With victims that men needed, day by day,
To fill their needs,
As is the busy hand of Death to fell
Mortals, who some time, prince and boor as well,
Must fall before the viewless axe, to quell
Earth's constant greeds.
As cunning was the woodman's hand to slay
With victims that men needed, day by day,
To fill their needs,
As is the busy hand of Death to fell
Mortals, who some time, prince and boor as well,
Must fall before the viewless axe, to quell
Earth's constant greeds.
“O come to me, and hover to me nigh,
My comrades true!” is oft my silent cry,
“Or help me do—as you have done—to die,
And with you be!”
So, with all earth around me but My Own,
I learn full often that the word Alone
Is not a sound of triumph, but a moan:
Sad Hermit Tree!
My comrades true!” is oft my silent cry,
“Or help me do—as you have done—to die,
And with you be!”
So, with all earth around me but My Own,
I learn full often that the word Alone
Is not a sound of triumph, but a moan:
Sad Hermit Tree!
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