My neck has felt the burden long—
My tree was shivered—weak and strong,
Beneath the bolt went down:
My heart—enough—thou canst not prey
On many in this later day;
The old, the young, were torn away,
Ere manhood’s wing had flown;
I saw the noble sire, who stood,
Majestic, as in crowded wood
The pine—and after him the brood—