O JOY of the peasant! O stately lime! Thou art fallen in thy golden honey-time! Thou whose wavy shadows. Long and long ago, Screened our gray forefathers From the noontide's glow; Thou, beneath whose branches, Touched with moonlight gleams, Lay our early poets Wrapt in fairy dreams. O tree of our fathers! O hallowed tree! A glory is gone from our home with thee. Where shall now the weary Rest through summer eves? Or the bee find honey, As on thy sweet leaves? Where shall now the ringdove Build again her nest? She so long the inmate Of thy fragrant breast! But the sons of the peasant have lost in thee Far more than the ringdove, far more than the bee! These may yet find coverts Leafy and profound, Fulf of dewy dimness, Odour, and soft sound: But the gentle memories Clinging all to thee, When shall they be gathered Round another tree? O pride of our fathers! O hallowed tree! The crown of the hamlet is fallen in thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PATIENCE by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE THE TEARES OF THE MUSES by EDMUND SPENSER ASCENSION (1) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LOVER'S VIGIL by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE AFTERMATH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LIFE OF RILEY by BERTON BRALEY |