16 

 THE BLASTED TREE. 



Spring lights up a radiant sky ; 



Gladness crowns the blossomed earth ; 

 Soft winds breathe and tremble nigh ; 



Sounds gush out, in praise and mirth, 



From each leafy dell. 



One lone tree stands bald and black 



Like a giant yet unspent. 

 Though long struggles' wearing rack 



From his mighty frame hath rent 



Manhood's fearless nerve. 



Spring's soft touch and gentle care 



Never, now, its bloom renew : 

 Leafless — in the fragrant air ; 



Leafless — though the silver dew 



Gem its aged boughs. 



In its hour of leaf and prime 



Voices rose from each green spray. 

 While its blossoms seemed to chime 



In sweet concert, all the day, 



Wild yet holy sounds. 



Warbles still that minstrel lay 



Now the boughs are old and sear ? 



False friend like, it fled away 

 When the time of woe drew near 



Never to return. 



Saddest midnight winds make moans, 

 Wafting with their winged controul 



Spirit-sighs — unearthly tones 

 Wrung, as from a restless soul. 



Near the blasted tree. 



Franz. 



