18S 
Short time ago, and yonder tree 
Waved in the light breeze gloriously; 
And to die morning sun displayed 
Proudly its amplitude of shade. 
Say then what storm, what sudden blast, 
Widi poisoned breadi has o’er it passed, 
That thus like shrivelled scroll it shows, 
Widi withered leaves and drooping boughs ? 
Each flower sleeps peaceful on its stem, 
Each spray the pendent dew-drops gem; 
How then could sudden blast or storm 
Have ravaged thus its stately form ? 
It was His word who spake at first 
Creation into life: — He cursed 
That fated tree — the spell of power 
It owned, and withered in an hour. 
And what provoked the doom severe ? 
Its trunk was firm, its boughs were fair; 
Its leaves in gold and emeralds shone: 
He sought for fruit — but fruit was none. 
