LINES TO AN ORANGE-TREE. 
289 
Thou shall find a friend in me, 
Outcast tree ! 
Who will hear thee from the storm 
To a shelter snug and warm— 
An asylum Winter-proof, 
When the snow is on the roof, 
Or the sleet comes down amain 
On the pane. 
Few delights, in sooth, to boast, 
At the most. 
Has our little, plain retreat, 
In its unpretending street; 
Save a bird or two, a lute, 
Pleasant hooks and nooks to suit. 
And three pictures on the wall— 
These are all. 
Yet while sadness rules the year 
Far and near, 
Thou shalt sit beside my hearth, 
And its music and its mirth 
From thy memory shall beguile 
E’en the charms of that dear isle, 
Whose enchantment far-off gleams 
On thy dreams. 
