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Fair Mistress Tulip -tree, I salute you. 

 Truly you may be set down, 



"A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, 

 And most divinely fair." 



Fair even o' winter, when you boast only 

 your lacy branches, your smooth, gray- 

 purple bark. What words shall paint you 

 when summer winds lose them in your love- 

 crown of flowers, when bird and bee lie 

 afaint in the Elysium of your bloomy 

 breast? What is it you sigh down your 

 slender height ? " Loving is living !" Then 

 must you be blessed indeed, O Madonna 

 of the forest! The Sun loves you, the 

 Wind, the Earth and her children, and all 

 tender winged things. 



More even than that good white nun, the 

 Beech, with her veil of fine twigs, where the 

 winter through there cling wisps of her rus- 

 set leaves. Truly she is a Sister of Charity, 

 flinging food and shelter to bird and squirrel 

 and merry child. Full, too, of the meekest 

 humility for all her royal port. Up and up 

 the eye follows her white height till, for 

 very weariness, it is fain to follow no far- 

 ther. Years agone Love carved Love's name 

 on the smooth lower trunk. Now alack 

 for humanity ! the word remains, though 



