THE PINE-TREE.

———

BY CAROLINE MAY.

———

How dear to my heart and my memory

Is that old majestic evergreen tree!

It stands like the guardian of our cot

Time-honored friend! it shall ne’er be forgot,

For I’ve spent bright hours of glee,

And of quiet rest

More deeply blest,

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.

A rose-tree lived ’neath this agéd one,

Concealed from the noontide rays of the sun,

And ’twas sweet to mark in his resting hour,

(The only time he could look on the flower,)

How he smiled on her lovingly,

Till her rosy hue

Still rosier grew,

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.

Up by its trunk I would stand and lean,

Gazing with rapture upon the soft scene,

(On the feathery-outlined isle that lay

Where the river and stream together play,)

For beauty and love seemed to be

Everywhere felt,

The spirits that dwelt

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.

And, laid at its feet, I oft tried to read,

But the breeze would play with my book, and plead

For my heart and ear, in a witching song

Which I could not resist, for ’twas never long,

And plaintive as plaintive could be;

So I listened, and sighed

When the sweet breeze died

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.

And there in the quiet I fain would rhyme,

And weave loving lays with a measured chime,

But my thoughts, as wild as the birds, would fly

From the beautiful earth to the beautiful sky

Unfixed, unfettered, and free,

In a dreamy joy

Which naught could destroy,

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.

I loved to be up on a merry May morn,

When musical sounds and bright clouds were born,

And join in the earliest chant of praise,

Which all that had life seemed glad to raise,

The clear carols of gushing glee

The birds would make,

Just at day-break,

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.

And I loved in the summer twilight dim,

To sing with my sister some holy hymn,

And watch the green shades as they deeper grew,

And a strange mysterious darkness threw;

And most dearly I loved to see

O’er the wavy grass

The night-wind pass,

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.

Then since I have loved both in shape and shine

Under its sheltering boughs to recline—

Since what I once love I love to the end,

Be it tree, bird or flower—book, music or friend—

When death cometh I fain would be

There laid to sleep,

Lowly and deep,

In the shade of the dark pine-tree.