The Pine-Tree
With whispers of futurity
And echoes of the past,
Twin birds a shelter find in thee
Against the wintry blast,—
The fledgling Hope, that preens her wing,
Too timorous to fly,
And Memory, that comes to sing
Her coranach, and die.
And echoes of the past,
Twin birds a shelter find in thee
Against the wintry blast,—
The fledgling Hope, that preens her wing,
Too timorous to fly,
And Memory, that comes to sing
Her coranach, and die.
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