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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416041" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lament of the Maple Tree</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I laid me down one day in June;<br>It was late-long after noon-<br>A very sultry summer's eve, <br>Such times the senses oft deceive. <br>The place was 'neath a maple tree,<br>Soon from all cares and troubles free,<br>By a gentle, kindly slumber,<br>No more our sorrows we could number.<br>But we heard a plaintive wail,<br>Such as we find in fairy tale ;<br>It was the genius of the tree,<br>Who, in sad guise, appeared to me.<br>And then she sadly did give vent<br>Unto this awful, grave lament,<br>'Though I am gay in month of June,<br>All decked in green ; yet very soon,<br>Alas ! my beauty will be faded,<br>And my charms be all degraded,<br>For is my time of glory brief ;<br>So often flattered is my leaf.<br>In Canada, so broad and free,<br>All poets sing of the maple tree.<br>High I stand, in their opinion,<br>Emblem of the New Dominion.<br>The reason I do them upbraid,<br>Some never slept beneath my shade ;<br>And yet they take the liberty<br>To chant about the maple tree. <br>They dare to poetize my leaf -<br>is the source of all my grief.<br>I think their praises all so rude, <br>And as but base in gratitude ;<br>So often hackneyed is my name,<br>That every fall I burn with shame-<br>Like maiden's cheek which blushes red</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When vain rash youth asks her to wed.<br>Then do these foolish ones descry <br>In me fresh beauty, and they sigh,<br>And then renew their songs of praise-<br>But unto me now sad their lays ;<br>For then I know my days are brief,<br>'Tis hectic flush upon my leaf.<br>True poets, then, should mournful sing,<br>When the destroyer's on the wing ;<br>For then I know my leaves of gold<br>Will all soon mingle with the mould.<br>No one does ever think to praise<br>The fell destroyer when he slays ;<br>No one rejoice in the flushed cheek,<br>When the poor girl is low and weak.<br>Perhaps they'll say, and it is true,<br>In Spring my glory I'll renew ;<br>But' tis poor comfort after all<br>To lose my offspring every Fall.<br>Small consolation to mother<br>To tell her that soon another<br>Will replace her fond darling boy,<br>Who has been source of all her joy.<br>But you know all about my wood,<br>You know that it is strong and good ;<br>And I have full many a curl,<br>And pleasing eye and charming nurl.<br>Some love me as fond nature grain'd<br>And some prefer my beauties stain'd ;<br>But my dear friend I hope that you<br>My varied shades like pure and true,<br>For of the woods you know the staple,<br>Stoutest and best, is good maple.<br>The youth my sugar eat with glee <br>And old maids love me in their tea.<br>In me do various uses meet-<br>In summer shade, in winter heat,<br>For I do make a glorious blaze,<br>All worthy of the poet's lays ;<br>But to their praises I'll be deaf<br>If more they harp about my leaf-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They call me gay when I am sober, <br>To me 'tis gloomy month, October. <br>But saints on earth, when they die <br>Hope for true bliss beyond the sky, <br>So winter does bring no alarms <br>Though it strip bare my trunk and arms, <br>For now I know that time will bring<br>More glorious foliage in the spring. <br>Then, all nature will rejoice, <br>Triumphing with glorious voice,<br>And birds will, in my branches, sing<br>Hosannas to the lovely spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">[The nurls and bird's eyes and curls were highly prized<br>in furniture thirty years ago, when we used the smooth plain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+McIntyre">James McIntyre</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416041" data-title="Lament of the Maple Tree de James McIntyre" data-description="I laid me down one day in June;
It was late-long after noon-
A very sultry summer's eve, 
Such times the senses oft deceive. 
The place was 'neath a maple tree,
Soon from all cares and troubles free,
By a gentle, kindly slumber,
No more our sorrow..."></div>
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