As if his heart had given them birth,
And they from thence their nurture drew,—
In such luxuriancy they grew.
No friendship to his grave had lent
Such rudely-sculptured monument
As marked the peasant’s place of rest;
For he, the latest of his race,
Had left behind no friend to trace
Such frail memorial o’er his breast.
But o’er his head a sapling waved