Fair tree! for thy delightful shade <br /> 'Tis just that some return be made; <br /> Sure some return is due from me <br /> To thy cool shadows, and to thee. <br /> When thou to birds dost shelter give, <br /> Thou music dost from them receive; <br /> If travellers beneath thee stay <br /> Till storms have worn themselves away, <br /> That time in praising thee they spend <br /> And thy protecting pow'r commend. <br /> The shepherd here, from scorching freed, <br /> Tunes to thy dancing leaves his reed; <br /> Whilst his lov'd nymph, in thanks, bestows <br /> Her flow'ry chaplets on thy boughs. <br /> Shall I then only silent be, <br /> And no return be made by me? <br /> No; let this wish upon thee wait, <br /> And still to flourish be thy fate. <br /> To future ages may'st thou stand <br /> Untouch'd by the rash workman's hand, <br /> Till that large stock of sap is spent, <br /> Which gives thy summer's ornament; <br /> Till the fierce winds, that vainly strive <br /> To shock thy greatness whilst alive, <br /> Shall on thy lifeless hour attend, <br /> Prevent the axe, and grace thy end; <br /> Their scatter'd strength together call <br /> And to the clouds proclaim thy fall; <br /> Who then their ev'ning dews may spare <br /> When thou no longer art their care, <br /> But shalt, like ancient heroes, burn, <br /> And some bright hearth be made thy urn.<br /><br />Countess Winchilsea Anne Finch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tree-5/
