THE ASPEN TREE.
The quiet of the evening hour
Was laid on every summer leaf;
That purple shade was on each flower,
At once so beautiful, so brief,
Only the aspen knew not rest,
But still, with an unquiet song,
Kept murmuring to the gentle west,
And cast a changeful shade along.
Not for its beauty—other trees
Had greener boughs, and statelier stem;
And those had fruit, and blossoms these,
Yet still I chose this tree from them.
