| SWAY thy top, thou ancient pine— | |
| Warrior of the storm commanding! | |
| Lone upon the mountain standing, | |
| Whom no ivy’s arms entwine. | |
| Melancholy souls like mine, | 5 |
| ’Neath thy shadow passing slow, | |
| Love to hear thy plaintive moan; | |
| ’Tis an echo of the woe | |
| Found in human breasts alone. | |
| |
| Mournfully amid the ruins | 10 |
| Of thy fellows standest thou, | |
| Like a column of some temple | |
| Living but in story now; | |
| All around it, wildly scattered, | |
| Fallen walls and pillars shattered. | 15 |
| Softly sighing through thy branches | |
| Sounds the wind, with fall and swell; | |
| Now retreats, and now advances, | |
| Rousing fancy with its spell, | |
| Like the melody that chances | 20 |
| On the ear from distant bell, | |
| Or the murmur that entrances | |
| Of the tinted sea-side shell. | |
| Lo! musing on thy loneliness, | |
| Thy brethren seem again to rise; | 25 |
| On every hand a wilderness | |
| Shuts out the prospect of the skies. | |
| |
| ’Tis verdure all, and deepest shade, no sound | |
| Disturbs the thoughtful silence, save | |
| A murmur such as rolls through Ocean cave, | 30 |
| And rustling of dry leaves upon the ground. | |
| But while I listen with an awe profound, | |
| A glance dispels the visionary wood— | |
| A single tree remains where late ten thousand stood. | |
| |
