No more we see that staunch old tree—
The axe has laid it low,
And much we’ll miss it, evermore,
That fall was one of woe.
THE ANGELS.
The Angel of Peace flew over the land,
And the country was wild with glee;
And she stilled the wave in the stormy night
On a rolling and restless sea.
But the Angel of Death flew over the land
And a babe was taken that night.
And an angel sweet in heaven appeared
In the land of glory and light.
THE SPECTRES.
In a palace sad and lonely
Flit two spectres all the day—
Spectres chasing joy and brightness
From each window far away.
One is Sorrow clad in raiment,
Sombre as the shades of night,
While her trailing robes of darkness
Chase away each ray of light.