Within a magic garden's bound,
Where trees, whose birth owned various climes,
Beneath one sky were strangely found.

First in the group, an ancient BEECH
His shapely arms abroad did fling,
Wearing old Autumn's russet crown
Among the lively tints of Spring.

Those pale brown leaves the winds of March
Made vocal 'mid the silent trees,
And spread their faint perfume abroad,
Like sad, yet pleasant memories.

Near it, the vigorous, noble FIR
Arose, with firm yet graceful mien;
Welcome for shelter or for shade,
A pyramid of living green.

And from the tender, vernal spray
The sunny air such fragrance drew,
As breathes from fields of strawberries wild,
All bathed in morning's freshest dew.

The OAK his branches richly green
Broad to the winds did wildly fling;--
The first in beauty and in power,
All bowed before the forest-king.

But ere its brilliant leaves were sere,