Poems (Denver)/The Willow Tree
THE WILLOW TREES.
They stood beside the sunlit stream that murmured by the door, How many a joyous melody its little voice would pourAs wild and most untamably dashed on its slender tide, Clad in the garments of a song, were song personified.
It hurried in the sunshine, yet loitered in the shade, Pausing to hear the music its own mirthfulness had made: When boughs so thickly interlaced would scarce admit a breeze, To whisper of their loveliness—those weeping willow trees!
Those two old weeping willows that look'd so sadly down, As if they mourned a brilliant gem, stolen from the earth's fair crown; Their slender branches dipping in the clear, transparent wave, And scattering all the drops around, as if 'twere tears they gave.
I see them now, as I have seen, in many a day gone by, Ere memory hid them in her heart, 'mongst treasured things to lie, When life first found me on its shore, a thing of light and love, With dear Virginia's soil beneath, Virginia's skies above.
I see them, and that gray old house that stood so meekly there,Where an aged couple dwelt, whose brows were furrow'd o'er with care, With a lovely grandchild by their side, whose bright and laughing eyes Lit their declining years, as lights the sun the evening sky.
Sweet Emily! I see her, as in many a long past hour, Brush back the hours as she would brush the dewdrop from a flower; I well remember how my heart was won whene'er she smiled,For she was a lovely woman then, and I a little child.
She, too, is gone! her voice no more will mingle with the stream, Her eye no more add beauty to the rays that on it gleam; Yet I know her heart, like mine, will swell, whene'er the evening breeze Sighs, as it used to sigh amidst those weeping willow trees.
