| |
| YE brave old fig-trees! worthy pair! | |
| Beneath whose shade I often lay | |
| To breathe awhile a cooler air, | |
| And shield me from the dusts of day. | |
| |
| Strangers have visited the spot, | 5 |
| Led thither by my parting song; | |
| Alas! the stranger found you not, | |
| And curst the poet’s lying tongue. | |
| |
| Vanished each venerable head, | |
| Nor bough nor leaf could tell them where | 10 |
| To look for you, alive or dead; | |
| Unheeded was my distant prayer. | |
| |
| I might have hoped (if hope had ever | |
| Been mine) that time or storm alone | |
| Your firm alliance would dissever,— | 15 |
| Hath mortal hand your strength o’erthrown? | |
| |
| Before an axe had bitten through | |
| The bleeding bark, some tender thought, | |
| If not for me, at least for you, | |
| On younger bosoms might have wrought. | 20 |
| |
| Age after age your honeyed fruit | |
| From boys unseen through foliage fell | |
| On lifted apron; now is mute | |
| The girlish glee! Old friends, farewell! | |
| |
