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Rh What did it boot his wide domain Of feathered pine and sweeping plain, Sand-ridge and turf? for he lay dead— Another reigning in his stead.

His sons forgot him; but that Tree Mourned for him long and silently, And o'er the old man's lonely bier Would, if he could, have dropped a tear. One other being only shared His grief: one other only cared: And she was but a six years' maid— His grandchild, who had watched him fade In childish ignorance; and wept Because the poor old grand-dad slept So long a sleep, and never came To smile upon her at her game, Or tell her stories of the fays And giants of the olden days. She cared; and, as the seasons sped, Linked by the memory of the dead, They two, the Box-Tree and the Child, Grew old in friendship; and she smiled, Clapping her chubby hands with glee, When for her pleasure that old Tree Would shake his limbs, and let the light Glance in a million sparkles bright From off his polished olive cloak. Then would the infant gently stroke