And grass grows greenest in the waning year,
His curious tell-tale turns toward the earth;
He stops, and with a shout of joy proclaims
The long sought spot where living water runs,
And where the well may sink, nor sink in vain.
The forest now awakes, while stroke on stroke
Falls on the hoary monarch of the wood,
Now shaking ’mid the scions that have towered
Beneath its shade for years. At length it falls,
And with terrific crash, bears down to earth