Australian and Other Poems/Lines on a Hawthorn
LINES, SUGGESTED BY A HAWTHORN IN THE BOTANIC GARDENS, SYDNEY.
As some brave soldier who has lost
His youth and strength 'mid battle tost,
Finds him, when age displays its frost,
A castaway.
From home and kindred's kindly cheer
By doom or chance an exile drear;
Even such, old tree, the fate you bear,
A sylvan stray.
Thy shrivelled stem, thy puny fruit.
The aspect of thy leafy suit,
Tell in this soil thy pining root
Finds not its home.
While Fancy hears thy leaves among,
The tale where memories are sung,
Of the old lands wherefrom you sprung,
Far o'er the foam.
Listing that tale, what visions rise!
A group of children meets our eyes,
With joyous looks and mirthful cries,
That glad the swains.
And one is chosen Queen of May;
Her golden ringlets wildly stray
Beneath a crown of blossoms gay,
And daisy chains.
Next comes a youth whose idle gait,
Full well proclaims his truant state;
Or, if he works, 'tis not to sate
Dull learning's greed.
With earnest face and piercing eyes,
He cons each bush for birds'-nest prize;
Or, climbing, from the bramble tries
Its fruit to lead.
Beside the thorn a young man stands,
When home have sped the toiling bands
And evening's veil gives all the lands
A grateful shade;
His eyes rest on the farm-house near,
For one is there than life more dear;
The casement moves—she'll soon be here'
His darling maid.
'Tis winter, and the hedge is bleak
What leads that group such shade to seek
Their home stood where ascends the reek
In yonder vale.
The mother's tears are silent shed,
Above her children's roofless bed
The father strides with measured tread,
Where frets the gale.
A chariot moves in stately show,
There, near the highway, hedges grow,
The peasants, as they pass, bend low.
To him sits there.
Behind a thorn a flash is seen,
The air resounds a musket's din;
A corse that chariot within.
Finds gory bier.
Thus not in vain, transplanted tree,
Thy venerated form we see
Where sylvan rarities agree,
In order bright.
A poet, story-teller, seer,
Among the trees, you fill their sphere
With lore, tradition, and, more dear,
Romance's light.