20

Here, that subtle, silent craving,
Which with life will never end,
Of the lonesome and the needy
For the comfort of a friend,
Drew the trav'ler to this tree waif,
And he spread his outfit near,
And they held that sacred converse
Which the soul alone can hear.
While the horses browsed the sage brush,
And the sun withdrew his light,
And the moon in mournful splendor
Ushered in the lonely night,
He lay down beneath the branches,
Wrapped in musings strange and deep--
Thoughts that bore him off in silence
O'er the placid sea of sleep.


21

In his dreams he saw a monarch
Decked in sumptuous array,
Seated on a throne of glory
Bearing royal title, Day.
Then some mighty power transcendent,
Thrust him from his gorgeous throne,