THE PARULA 
AR within the gloomy forest 
Stand the prophets of the swamp- 
land, 
Tall are they, with storm-blanched fore- 
heads. 
High they lift their arms towards heaven, 
Moan wh^n winds sweep chilling o'er them. 
Weep when winter snows are falling. 
Hanging loose in uncombed masses. 
Downward trail their long gray beards. 
Dismal owls abide beside them. 
Bats and snakes and lizards haunt them, 
In the night their feet are lighted 
By earth's phosphorescent torches. 
Years ago, in youth's keen vigor. 
They were rulers of the forest ; 
Far their leaf-hung limbs extended. 
High their heads were held in sunlight, 
