And the robins, heavy-hearted, still their laughter for a day,
For the old elm tree is passing, in the middle of the town,
And the axes will not tarry till the old elm tree is down.
You may share no more its message in the springtime of the year,
With the joyful lilting concord when the song-birds first appear;
You will miss the calm enchantment of its leafy choirs in June,
And its heavenly benediction on an August afternoon.
You will miss the sunset glory where it yellowed in the fall,
And the swarm of stars that gathered in the branches at the call
Of the sparrow at his vespers; you will miss the joy and glow