| Show VOICE OF THE PINE TREE haunted tt it is not thyself breathing such P plaint faint of woe it must mast be some unhappy elf whose heart broke long ago now kow it revisits thee alway and stirs thy ha p of sorrow we hear bear its tiny fingers play and shudder for the morrow it seems to presage grief unborn that trembling sigh of sadness we fear to hail the rosy morn mom lest we should miss its gladness it Is as it from earliest time no joy thou haast felt but bat caught the echoes of a clime where only trouble dwelt A mystery hovers overhead and shrouds thee all thy daya days we glance ground around tor for presence dread when that strange music plays it cannot be thy dirge of woe thy secret grief unfurled there la is so BO deep an overflow it saddens all the world it moves us on the windy height it haunts us in the it follows through the noonday ligh the sighing of the pine MRS N B |
