131
Shed her soft beams with joy o'er thee
My own, my much lov'd chestnut tree!
My own, my much lov'd chestnut tree!
In childhood's days, in frolic sport,
Around thy trunk I've play'd,
And riper years have seen me court
Thy deep umbrageous shade;
And now my children run in glee
Under thy branches—chestnut tree!
Around thy trunk I've play'd,
And riper years have seen me court
Thy deep umbrageous shade;
And now my children run in glee
Under thy branches—chestnut tree!
Swiftly has pass'd my life's gay spring,
But thine again will bloom;
My summer too is on the wing,
And mould'ring in the tomb
Are those dear friends, who lov'd, like me,
To mark thy growth, my chestnut tree!
But thine again will bloom;
My summer too is on the wing,
And mould'ring in the tomb
Are those dear friends, who lov'd, like me,
To mark thy growth, my chestnut tree!
