THE WILD PLUM TREE.
You should have seen it, sire; a vicious thing,
Knotting defiance in its crabbed twigs,
And arguing with full fifty bitter leagues
Of sea~winds maddening on a rocky shore.
Knotting defiance in its crabbed twigs,
And arguing with full fifty bitter leagues
Of sea~winds maddening on a rocky shore.
No wonder! well, half-doubting I uptore
And bore it inland—doubting, set it here,
Where it might feel the garden's warmth and cheer,
And only heaven's forbearing winds might come.
And bore it inland—doubting, set it here,
Where it might feel the garden's warmth and cheer,
And only heaven's forbearing winds might come.
