Classic Poem

Two trees were we — and thou a graceful pine,
But I, with gloomy shroud, a darksome yew;
So near our meeting arms did oft entwine,
And by the borders of a stream we grew.
And thou, when winds of bleak affection blew
Around, and made thy drooping form incline,
Or when the fatal storm of death o'er threw
Thy friends, would'st, murm'ring, lean thy head by mine.

But heartless fortune took us from our place,
And now has left us many miles apart;
And I am set upon a rock of stone;
My leaves of youthful pleasures fall apace,
And worms of love and grief corrode my heart,
And all my cheerful birds of joy are flown.