TCAYFAEING-TREE. 225 



" Or is it that thou lovest to show 

 Thy coronals of fragrant snow, 

 Like life's spontaneous joys that flow, 



In paths by thousands beat ? 

 Whate'er it be, I love it well, 

 A name, methinks, that surely fell 

 From poet in some evening dell, 



Wandering with fancies sweet. 



" A. name, given in those olden days, 

 When 'midst the wild wood's vernal sprays 

 The merle and mavis poured their lays 



In the lone listener's ear ; 

 Like songs of an enchanted land, 

 Sung sweetly to some fairy band, 

 Leaning with doffed helms in hand, 



In some green hollow near." 



