10
the ceyba and the yaguey.
A sad and singular history
Is that of the beautiful Ceyba-tree,
And what I recount of one alone,
Is true of a thousand as of one.
Is that of the beautiful Ceyba-tree,
And what I recount of one alone,
Is true of a thousand as of one.
Grand and alone the giant stood,
The Ceyba-tree of royal mood.
It stood so great that the careless Montero
Of the sunny Partido de Sumidero,
Cheering his mules with song and whistle,
Winding about those mountains that bristle
With cactus outré, and pine, and yucca,
And soften as well with twining bejuca,
And the delicate weft of the tamarind
Afloat on the sunny tropic wind,
Seeing afar in the freshening skies,
This beacon of silent centuries,
Touched his cap in the way of his nation,
Making his morning salutation.
The giant, I said, of royal heart,
The Ceyba-tree of royal mood.
It stood so great that the careless Montero
Of the sunny Partido de Sumidero,
Cheering his mules with song and whistle,
Winding about those mountains that bristle
With cactus outré, and pine, and yucca,
And soften as well with twining bejuca,
And the delicate weft of the tamarind
Afloat on the sunny tropic wind,
Seeing afar in the freshening skies,
This beacon of silent centuries,
Touched his cap in the way of his nation,
Making his morning salutation.
The giant, I said, of royal heart,
