Or, 'neath yon moss-grown cliff, grotesque and grey
Sit plaiting flowery wreaths in social ring,
And telling wondrous tales of the green Elfin King.
Ah! evil days have fallen upon the land;
A storm that brooded long has burst at last;
And friends, like forest trees that closely stand
With roots and branches interwoven fast,
May aid awhile each other in the blast;
But as when giant pines at length give way