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THE RUMINAL FIG TREE.
51
All blighted, battered, blackened, bare,
It stood, an emblem of despair;
We viewed the wreck with silent awe,
And from the scene did moral draw;
The tree seemed fruitful in its blight,
And we were wiser for the sight.

Long, changeful years have passed since then;
We've battled in the strife of men,
Life's journey trod with wounded feet,
Tasted the bitter cup and sweet,
Seen blooming hopes fade one by one,
Till like that tree we've stood alone.

O! would there were no sadder scene
Than blighted trees that once were green—
But some are found by sorrow bowed,
Dark palls of gloom their lives enshroud;
Too oft neglected, blamed, and feared,
They stand like trees by lightning seared.

But guard thou, as some holy thing,
The heart where grief has left its sting;
Deal gently, be he friend or foe,
With one who feels heaven's chastening blow;
Give love, alms, tears, heart's dew and rain,
And Hope's dead tree shall live again.