POPLAR. 251 



That sufferer gave them. Hastening to the wood 



The wood of aspens they, with ruffian power, 

 Did hew the fair pale tree, which trembling stood, 



As if awe-struck : and from that fearful hour 

 Aspens have quivered, as with conscious dread 

 Of that foul crime which bowed the meek Redeemer's head. 



Far distant from those days. Oh, let not man, 



Boastful of reason, check with scornful speech 

 Those legends pure ; for who the heart may scan, 



Or say what hallowed thoughts such legends teach 

 To those who may, perchance, their scant flocks keep, 



On hill or plain ; to whom the quivering tree 

 Hinteth a thought, which, holy, solemn, deep, 



Sinks in the heart, bidding their spirits flee 

 All thoughts of vice, that dread and hateful thing, 

 Which troubleth of each joy the pure and gushing spring ? 



