 | Poems by Bernard Barton |  |
236
THE WITHER'D LEAF.
Sever'd from thy slender stalk,
Wither'd wand'rer! knowest thou?
Would'st thou tell, if leaves might talk,
Whence thou art?—Where goest thou?
Wither'd wand'rer! knowest thou?
Would'st thou tell, if leaves might talk,
Whence thou art?—Where goest thou?
“Nothing know I!—tempests' strife
From the proud oak tore me;
Broke my every tie to life,
Whelm'd the tree that bore me.
From the proud oak tore me;
Broke my every tie to life,
Whelm'd the tree that bore me.
“Zephyr's fickle breath,—the blast
From the northern ocean,
Since that day my lot have cast
By their varying motion.
From the northern ocean,
Since that day my lot have cast
By their varying motion.
“From the mountain's breezy height
To the silent valley,
From the forest's darksome night
To the plain I sally.
To the silent valley,
From the forest's darksome night
To the plain I sally.
237
“Wheresoever wafts the wind,
Restless flight constraining,
There I wander, unconfin'd,
Fearless, uncomplaining.
Restless flight constraining,
There I wander, unconfin'd,
Fearless, uncomplaining.
“On I go—where all beside
Like myself are going;
Where Oblivion's dreamless tide
Silently is flowing.
Like myself are going;
Where Oblivion's dreamless tide
Silently is flowing.
“There, like Beauty, frail and brief,
Fades the pride of roses;
There the laurel's honour'd leaf—
Sear'd and scorn'd—reposes.”
Fades the pride of roses;
There the laurel's honour'd leaf—
Sear'd and scorn'd—reposes.”
| Poems by Bernard Barton | |