SONG OF THE GREENWOOD FAGOT.
I am lopp'd from sylvan thickets, where the squirrel peeping out,
Seems wondering why they take the arms he used to play about;
And the bonnie Greenwood Fagot, with its blossoms and its sprays,
Is beautiful and fragrant in the first of summer days.
Seems wondering why they take the arms he used to play about;
And the bonnie Greenwood Fagot, with its blossoms and its sprays,
Is beautiful and fragrant in the first of summer days.
My green leaves soon are dead, and my freshness withers fast;
The glory and the beauty of my forest life are past;
But the birds find other branches where they troll as gay a song
And I fall unmourn'd, like many from a bright and worldly throng.
Away I go at sunset, on a broad and sturdy back,
To mingle with my kindred heap upon the winter stack;
I bear all change that stormy cold and parching heat can bring,
Till the bonnie Greenwood Fagot is a sear'd and sapless thing.
The glory and the beauty of my forest life are past;
But the birds find other branches where they troll as gay a song
And I fall unmourn'd, like many from a bright and worldly throng.
Away I go at sunset, on a broad and sturdy back,
To mingle with my kindred heap upon the winter stack;
I bear all change that stormy cold and parching heat can bring,
Till the bonnie Greenwood Fagot is a sear'd and sapless thing.
My green leaves soon are brown, and the acorn drops away;
The forest is far off, and my lithe bark turneth gray;
And while some noisy festival is ringing through the land,
Young hands, perchance, are seizing me to bear me to the brand:
They spring amid my showering sparks in bold fantastic form;
Their spirits buoyant as my light, their hearts as wild and warm:
Dance on, dance on for never will ye bask in brighter rays
Than those the Greenwood Fagot sheds on boyhood's bonfire days.
The forest is far off, and my lithe bark turneth gray;
And while some noisy festival is ringing through the land,
Young hands, perchance, are seizing me to bear me to the brand:
They spring amid my showering sparks in bold fantastic form;
Their spirits buoyant as my light, their hearts as wild and warm:
Dance on, dance on for never will ye bask in brighter rays
Than those the Greenwood Fagot sheds on boyhood's bonfire days.
Long time ago they pull'd me from the peasant's frugal hoard
To feed the altar, where the stream of human incense pour'd,
And brought and piled by goodly hands and Christian souls I stood
Crackling around the oozing bones and smoking through the blood.
I've choked the martyr's deadly shriek with hissing tongues of flame;
While saints and prelates crown'd me with a loud undying fame;
And the bonnie Greenwood Fagot spread its fierce and fiendish blaze,
As Mercy's crimson banner in the "Good Queen Mary's days."
To feed the altar, where the stream of human incense pour'd,
And brought and piled by goodly hands and Christian souls I stood
Crackling around the oozing bones and smoking through the blood.
I've choked the martyr's deadly shriek with hissing tongues of flame;
While saints and prelates crown'd me with a loud undying fame;
And the bonnie Greenwood Fagot spread its fierce and fiendish blaze,
As Mercy's crimson banner in the "Good Queen Mary's days."
But better place and nobler deeds have fallen to my lot:
When fair Helvetia's earth was stain'd with Tyranny's foul blot,
I was the signal to brave hearts from every mountain height—
I was the star that usher'd in the sun of Freedom's light—
When fair Helvetia's earth was stain'd with Tyranny's foul blot,
I was the signal to brave hearts from every mountain height—
I was the star that usher'd in the sun of Freedom's light—
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