THE THORN. I. There is a Thorn-it looks so old, Not higher than a two years' child It is a mass of knotted joints, It stands erect, and like a stone With lichens it is overgrown. II. Like rock or stone, it is o'ergrown With lichens to the very top, And hung with heavy tufts of moss, A melancholy crop : And this Up from the earth these mosses creep, poor Thorn they clasp it round So close, you'd say that they were bent With plain and manifest intent, To drag it to the ground; And all had join'd in one endeavour To bury this poor Thorn for ever. III. High on a mountain's highest ridge, Cuts like a scythe, while through the clouds from vale to vale; It sweeps Not five yards from the mountain path, This Thorn you on your left espy; And to the left, three yards beyond, Of water never dry; I've measured it from side to side : "Tis three feet long, and two feet wide. IV. And, close beside this aged Thorn, All lovely colours there you see, As if by hand of lady fair The work had woven been ; |