Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/69

Rh Then on a night the wind swept down And rustled 'mid the foliage brown. The mighty framework creaked and groaned In giant agony, and moaned— Its wind-swept branches growing numb— I come, my love! my love, I come!' A gust more furious than the rest Struck the great Box-Tree's shivering crest The great bole snapped across its girth; The forest monarch fell to earth With such a mighty rush of sound The settlers heard it miles around, While upward through the windy night That faithful lover's soul took flight.

The squatter smiled to see it fall: He sent his men with wedge and maul, Who split the tree; but found it good For nothing more than kindling-wood. They marvelled much to find a ring— Asking themselves what chanced to bring The golden circlet which they found Clasping a branchlet firmly round. Foolish and blind! they could not see The faithfulness of that dead Tree.