For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs
O’erhung the champaign; and the numerous flocks
That graz’d it stood beneath that ample cope
Uncrowded, yet safe-shelter’d from the storm.
No flocks frequent thee now. Thou hast outlived
Thy popularity, and art become
(Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing
Forgotten as the foliage of thy youth.
While thus through all the stages thou hast push’d
Of treeship—first a seedling, hid in grass;