Of the melting moonlight blended with its legion flowers of snow.
You will miss its stately lyric as it broke the mystic flight
Of the wild wind-shattered tempest thro’ the solitudes of night;
For the old elm tree is passing from the middle of the town,
And the axes will not tarry till the old elm tree is down.
’Tis a century, they tell us, since it sprung up by the wall,
Full of love for all God’s creatures, yet the old elm tree must fall;
But its strong sap mounting skyward with its tidings of good will,
With its sturdy flow of courage for a soul that’s standing still,
Will forever thread my dreamings with the wonder unimpaired,