THE ELM TREE: A DREAM IN THE WOODS. "And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees." AS YOU LIKE IT. TWAS in a shady avenue, And from a tree There came to me A sad and solemn sound, Amongst the leaves it seemed to sigh, No breeze there was to stir the leaves; No bird was preening up aloft, Had ne'er a hole To hide a living thing! No scooping hollow cell to lodge The martin, bat, Or forest cat That nightly loves to prowl, But still the sound was in my ear, And sometimes underground 'T was in a shady avenue O, hath the Dryad still a tongue The olden time is dead and gone; And even in Greece her native Greece The sylvan nymph is dumb From ash, and beech, and aged oak, No classic whispers come. From poplar, pine, and drooping birch, E'er hovers round, Unless the vagrant breeze, But busy bees forsake the elm Yet still I heard that solemn sound, And each minuter shoot; From rugged trunk and mossy rind, And from the twisted root. From these, a melancholy moan; From those, a dreary sigh; And wild winds sweeping by- No sign or touch of stirring air The thistle-down to swerve, Or force the filmy gossamers To take another curve. In still and silent slumber hushed All Nature seemed to be: From heaven above, or earth beneath, From that MYSTERIOUS TREE! A hollow, hollow, hollow sound, Along a shingly shore But the ocean brim was far aloof, No murmur of the gusty sea, Mayhap, rehearsing ancient tales Beneath their boughs; Or blood obscurely spilt; Or of that near-hand mansion-house Perchance, of booty won or shared Beneath the starry cope - Of graves, perchance, untimely scooped Tradition leaves in blank. Of traitor lips that muttered plots- If trees had tongues to tell! With wary eyes, and ears alert, How cheerly shone the glimpse of heaven Beyond that verdant aisle ! That quenched the light, the while, As dim and chill As serves to fill Some old cathedral pile! And many a gnarléd trunk was there, That ages long had stood, Till Time had wrought them into shapes Or still more foul and hideous forms 1 |