Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/295

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Or the lark's nest; and overhead, the dove Had her lone dwelling, paying for her home With melancholy songs; and scarce a beech Was there without a honeysuckle linked Around, with its red tendrils and pink flowers; Or girdled by a brier rose, whose buds Yield fragrant harvest for the honey-bee. There dwelt the last red deer, those antler'd kings... But this is as a dream,—the plough has pass'd Where the stag bounded, and the day has looked On the green twilight of the forest-trees. This oak has no companion!....