72
ADDRESS TO A BIRCH TREE.
But now thy stem is mute and dark,
No more by lady’s reverence cheered;
Rent from its trunk, torn from its park,
The luckless tree again is reared—
(Small sign of honour or of grace!)
To mark the parish market-place!
Long as St. Idloes’ town shall be
A patroness of poesy—
Long as its hospitality
The bard shall freely entertain,
My birch! thy lofty stature shall remain!
