Our Different Needs 15 



"Where are my beautiful trees," he cried, 



"That grew on the side of the mountain? 

 The stately pines that were once my pride, ' 

 My shadowy, droop-limbed junipers : 

 And my dewy, softly whispering firs, 



'Mid their emerald glooms on the mountain? 



"They are aU ravished away," he said, 



"And torn from the arms of the mountain, 

 Away from the haunts of cooling shade. 

 From the cloisters green which flourished here — 

 My lodging for many a_ joyous year 



On the side of the pleasant mountain. 



"The songbird is bereft of its nest. 



And voiceless now is the mountain. 

 My murmurous bees once took their rest, 

 At shut of day, and knew no fear. 

 In the trees whose trunks lie rotting here 



On the side of the ruined mountain. 



"Man has let in the passionate sun 



To suck the life-blood of the mountain, 

 And drink up its fountains one by one : 

 And out of the immortal freshness made 

 A thing of barter, and sold in trade 



The sons of the mother mountain. 



"Down in the valley I see a town. 



Built of his spoils from my mountain — 

 A jewel torn from a monarch's crown, 

 A grave for the lordly groves of Pan : 

 And for this, on the head of vandal man, 



I hurl a curse from the mountain. 



"His palpitant streams shall all go dry 



Henceforth on the side of the mountain, 

 And his verdant plains as a desert lie 

 Until he plants again the forest fold 

 And restores to me my kingdom old. 



As in former days on the mountain. 



