The Monthly Magazine, Volume 3, Pages 26-27
THE PALM-TREE.
- - - - - Has his heart forgot, so far away,
Those native scenes—those rocks and torrents grey;
The tall bananas whispering to the breeze;
The shores—the sound of those encircling seas
Heard from his infant days—and the piled heap
Of holy stones, where his forefathers sleep?Bowles.
It waved not through an eastern sky,
Beside a fount of Araby;
It was not fanned by southern breeze,
In some green isle of Indian seas;
Nor did its graceful shadow sleep
O'er stream of Afric, lone and deep:
But fair the exiled palm-tree grew,
'Midst foliage of no kindred hue;
Through the laburnum's dropping gold
Uprose that stem of orient mould,
And Europe's violets, faintly sweet,
Purpled the moss-beds at his feet.
