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Charles Mackay (Чарльз Маккей)

The Alder Tree

Alder tree, O alder tree,
Over his grave reclining;
I've braided a wreath of the fairest flowers
That ever were fed by the spring-time showers.
Or nursed by the summer shining.
Short, but lovely, their lives have been,
Like his in the damp sod sleeping,
And I strew them now on the hillock green,
Where a mournful watch I'm keeping.

Alder tree! O alder tree!
Is it a voice of sorrow
That sighs 'mong thy leaves in the silent night,
When the radiant hue of the moonshine bright
Announceth a pleasant morrow?
'Tis a voice of wailing, O alder tree,
'Tis the evening breeze that weepeth,
'Tis the nightingale singing a song like me,
O'er the grave where my loved one sleepeth! 

Charles Mackay's other poems:
  1. The Greenwood Tree
  2. Our Saviours Lamentation Over Jerusalem
  3. Song To The Germans
  4. Coronach, Or Death-Wai
  5. The Little Moles

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