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the elm and blasted tree.
"'T is true, my beauty all has fled;
True, the destroyer, o'er my head
Has passed, and all my joys are dead.
My leafless branches, it is true,
No joyous spring shall e'er renew,
By lightning and by tempest riven;
But, know the stroke was sent from heaven.
The power that stripped my branches bare,
Still makes me his peculiar care;
Still leaves me here with kind design,
To make his power and goodness shine;
My faded form to teach e'en thee,
What thou, vain elm, must one day be;
That thou may est learn he can resume
Our vigor and our youthful bloom.
His sun still on me warmly glows;
And round my form some radiance throws:
He bade this youthful, lovely vine
Around my sapless trunk entwine;
With filial love it fondly clings,
And e'en to me some pleasure brings.
And such support 't is sweet to give;
For this I willingly would live.
The earth no more with base alloy
Mingles its stream of dying joy
With the pure warmth I feel from heaven;
From whence, to me a strength is given,
True, the destroyer, o'er my head
Has passed, and all my joys are dead.
My leafless branches, it is true,
No joyous spring shall e'er renew,
By lightning and by tempest riven;
But, know the stroke was sent from heaven.
The power that stripped my branches bare,
Still makes me his peculiar care;
Still leaves me here with kind design,
To make his power and goodness shine;
My faded form to teach e'en thee,
What thou, vain elm, must one day be;
That thou may est learn he can resume
Our vigor and our youthful bloom.
His sun still on me warmly glows;
And round my form some radiance throws:
He bade this youthful, lovely vine
Around my sapless trunk entwine;
With filial love it fondly clings,
And e'en to me some pleasure brings.
And such support 't is sweet to give;
For this I willingly would live.
The earth no more with base alloy
Mingles its stream of dying joy
With the pure warmth I feel from heaven;
From whence, to me a strength is given,
