Memoir and remains of the Rev. James D. Burns ... By the late Rev. James Hamilton [i.e. J. D. Burns] |
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THE CHERRY TREE. |
 | Memoir and remains of the Rev. James D. Burns |  |
THE CHERRY TREE.
To His servant Spring, the good God said,
“For the poor little worm a table spread!”
Straight on the cherry-tree there were seen
Thousands of leaflets fresh and green.
“For the poor little worm a table spread!”
Straight on the cherry-tree there were seen
Thousands of leaflets fresh and green.
The poor little worm woke up, and crept
From the cell where all winter long it had slept;
It rubb'd its eyes in a dreamy mood,
And open'd its little mouth for food.
From the cell where all winter long it had slept;
It rubb'd its eyes in a dreamy mood,
And open'd its little mouth for food.
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And with slow, silent tooth it gnaw'd away
The little green leaflets on many a spray,
And it said to itself, “This is very good,—
'Tis quite a feast on such delicate food!”
The little green leaflets on many a spray,
And it said to itself, “This is very good,—
'Tis quite a feast on such delicate food!”
To His servant Summer, the good God said,
“For the poor little bee a table spread!”
Straight the tree all over was bright
With thousands of blossoms fresh and white.
“For the poor little bee a table spread!”
Straight the tree all over was bright
With thousands of blossoms fresh and white.
Soon as the morning redden'd the east,
The little bee flew from his hive to the feast,
And humm'd to himself, “This is pleasant juice,—
Can such nice little china cups be for my use?
The little bee flew from his hive to the feast,
And humm'd to himself, “This is pleasant juice,—
Can such nice little china cups be for my use?
“So clean and so white the cups are, let me dip
My tongue into each, and the sweet juice sip!”
So from cup to cup he flutters and drinks.
“This year there is no want of sugar,” he thinks.
My tongue into each, and the sweet juice sip!”
So from cup to cup he flutters and drinks.
“This year there is no want of sugar,” he thinks.
Then to Summer the good God said,
“For the poor little bird a table spread!”
Straight for each blossom came fruit instead,
Thousands of cherries so fresh and red.
“For the poor little bird a table spread!”
Straight for each blossom came fruit instead,
Thousands of cherries so fresh and red.
The wren and the sparrow then flew to the tree,
Each chirrup'd and said, “Is this meant for me?
Here let us feast the whole summer long,
And our throats will be clear and sweet for song!”
Each chirrup'd and said, “Is this meant for me?
Here let us feast the whole summer long,
And our throats will be clear and sweet for song!”
Then to Autumn the good God said,
“Clear the table—the children have fed!”
Quickly a cold wind blew from the hill,
And its breath was hoar-frost, dank, and chill.
“Clear the table—the children have fed!”
Quickly a cold wind blew from the hill,
And its breath was hoar-frost, dank, and chill.
And the leaves turn'd yellow, and red, and brown,
At each breath of the breeze they came rustling down;
What had come from earth return'd to earth,
And died on the bosom that gave it birth.
At each breath of the breeze they came rustling down;
What had come from earth return'd to earth,
And died on the bosom that gave it birth.
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Last to Winter the good God said,
“Over all that is left a mantle spread!”
Quickly the snow-flakes began to fall,
Wrapping them up in a close, white pall.
“Over all that is left a mantle spread!”
Quickly the snow-flakes began to fall,
Wrapping them up in a close, white pall.
| Memoir and remains of the Rev. James D. Burns | |