224 VOICES FROM THE WOODLANDS. 



valley, are many of my brethren, each in his right place, 

 and having his daily work assigned him. 



Observe my finely serrated oval leaves, and radiated 

 down, each filament consisting of several rays diverging 

 from a point, and my white blossoms cloven half-way, that 

 form in their aggregate numerous globes of pale scented 

 petals. Beside me often grows a mountain ash, with his 

 bright clusters of scarlet berries ; but those who pass this 

 way more generally stop to admire the wayfaring-tree. 

 Perhaps in autumn the rich crimson hue of my leaves 

 attracts their notice ; in spring my appearance is very un- 

 pretending : and yet thus beautifully has a nameless poet 

 sung concerning me : 



" "Wayfaring-tree ! what ancient claim 

 Hast thou to that right pleasant name ? 

 Was it that some faint pilgrim came, 



Unhopedly to thee, 

 In the brown desert's weary way, 

 'Midst thirst, and toil's consuming sway ; 

 And there, as 'neath thy shade he lay, 

 Blessed the wayfaring-tree ? 



