This page needs to be proofread.
90
Deep to the Willow's root it went,
And cleft the core asunder, Like sudden secret lightning, sent
Without recording thunder: — From that sad moment, slow away Began the Willow to decay.
In vain did Spring those bowers restore, WTiere Loves and Graces revell'd,
Autumn's wild gales the branches tore, The thin grey leaves disheveU'd,
And every wasting Winter found
The W^illow nearer to the ground.
Hoary, and weak, and bent with age, At length the axe assail'd it:
It bow'd before the woodman's rage; — The swans of Thames bewail'd it.
With softer tones, with sweeter breath,
Than ever charm'd the ear of death.
�� �
