POETRY.
ASPENS IN SPRING.
BLESSED be he who set you there To wave your boughs in the blue air ; To whisper ever, night or noon, Under the sun, under the moon.; To weave a music, where you stand, Of waters in a thirsty land. .
Many a Spring has come and gone Since first you rose and trembled on The bright ecstatic air ; and now Once more you take the winds and show A silver under-leaf, then over Turning, a tender green discover, Many a Traveller has seen You threshed into a lively sheen, And let the music of your leaf Persuade him from his human grief.
So shall the peace they take, who come Wearily under your shadow home, The last reward of Beauty be, The crown of his mortality,
Who set you thus to wave in air- Himself no more a Traveller.
C. HENRY WARREN.
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