THE TREE OF YOUTH. 263
What knight riding down the long age,
With a blazon ashine on his crest, Ever fought such a foe as the man
Who hath smitten a sin from his breast ? Nay, what of earth s beautiful sights,
Mighty torrent or hill s misty crest, Shall be better to see, from above,
Than a mother-bird rounding her nest ?
��THE TREE OF YOUTH.
HEARD you of the tale of Ibor, Mussulman and traveller old, Who such strange, fantastic story Hath in ancient volume told,
Of the leaves for Youth s renewal Falling from the cypress tree,
Of its close concentric pathways Trodden bare by devotee ?
Where the sun of Ceylon brightens Palm and river, shore and steep,
Till its golden tissue tangles In the drowsy thicket s sleep,
High, among the tropic leafage, Spring the crown and column fair
Of the mystic, fateful cypress To the golden upper air.
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