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The HOLLY TREE.
By ROBERT SOUTH EY.
0 Reader ! hast thou ever stood to sce
The Holly Tree?
Its glossy leaves
Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen
Wrinkled and keen,
Can reach to wound,
I love to view these things with curious eyes
Can emblems see
So, tho' abroad perchance I might appear
Harsh and austere,
Reserved and rude,
And should my youth, as youth is apt I know,
Some harshness show,
Would wear away,
And as when all the summer trees are seen
So bright and green, The Holly leaves their fadeless hues display
Less bright than they, But when the bare and wintry woods we see What then so chearful as the Holly Tree?
So serious should my youth appear among
The thoughtless throng, So would I seem amid the
YOUTH AND AGE.
With chearful step the traveller
Pursues his early way, When first the dimly-dawning east
Reveals the rising day.
He bounds along his craggy road,
He hastens up the height, And all he sees and all he hears,
But only give delight.
And if the mist retiring slow,
Roll round its wavy white, He thinks the morning vapours hide
Some beauty from his sight.
But when behind the western clouds
Departs the fading day, How wearily the traveller
Pursues his evening way!
Then sorely o'er the craggy road
His painful footsteps creep,
many a feeble pause, He labours up the steep.
And if the mists of night close round;
They fill his soul with fear;
Some hidden danger near.
So cheerfully does youth begin
Life's pleasant morning stage;.
The fears of wary age !