They never did aught of harm,
But scattered their perfume out to the breeze,
And sheltered the birds from the storm.
For an age they have stood on the town’s outer meads,
The skirmish and battle have braved;
Alike they have gazed on the war’s bloody deeds,
And the white flag of peace as it waved.
But you cut them away! my pleading is vain!
In their shade moves the carpenter’s hands,
I watched him to-day as he leveled his plane,