Page:Felicia Hemans in the New Monthly Magazine Volume 11 1824.pdf/4



I've borne him in these arms, that now Are nerveless and unstrung. And must I see, on that fair brow, The dust untimely flung? I must!—yon green oak, branch and crest, Lies floating on the dark lake's breast!

The noble boy! how proudly sprung The falcon from his hand! It seem'd like youth to see him young, A flower in his father's land! But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh, For the tree hath fall'n, and the flower must die!

Say not 'tis vain!—I tell thee, some Are warn'd by a meteor's light, Or a pale bird flitting calls them home, Or a voice on the winds by night. And they must go!—and he too, he— Woe for the fell of the glorious Tree!F. H.