The Court Magazine, 1834, Volume IV, Page 10
SUMMER SONGS BY MRS. HEMANS—No. V.
THE FALLEN LIME TREE.
Oh, joy of the peasant! O stately lime!
Thou art fallen in thy golden honey time.
Thou whose wavy shadows,
Long and long ago,
Screen'd our grey forefathers
From the noontide's glow;
Thou, beneath whose branches,
Touch'd with moonlight gleams,
Lay our early poets
Wrapt in fairy dreams.
A glory is gone from our home with thee.
Where shall now the weary
Rest thro' summer eves?
Or the bee find honey,
As on thy sweet leaves?
Where shall now the ring-dove
Build again her nest?
She so long the inmate
Of thy fragrant breast?
Far more than the ring-dove, far more than the bee!
These may yet find coverts,
Leafy and profound,
Full of dewy dimness
Odour and soft sound:
But the gentle memories
Clinging all to thee,
When shall they be gathered
Round another tree?
The crown of the hamlet is fallen in thee!
