Amid thy foliage dim The wild bee murmurs not, nor e’er is heard, ’Mong thy pale folded leaves, the chant of bird, Warbling her vesper hymn. Not so, oh mournful tree! When in their glory shone those gardens bright, And plants of every clime, full fair to sight, Smiled gayly there with thee. Then thou did’st proudly wave Thy graceful boughs above the queenly head Of fair Semiramis, and soft dews shed, Her beauteous brow to lave. While at thy feet unrolled, Lay Shinar’s plain, in whose bright midst there shone The hundred gates of mighty Babylon— Her towers and domes of gold! Where are her glories now— Her valiant kings—and he who reared yon tower To brave the heavens? Spent is their little hour! Oh, tree! why lingerest thou? There thou hast stood and seen Their doom fulfilled—hast seen gray ruin sit In their bright halls, and marked the dark bat flit Where song and dance have been. Hoary and voiceless tree! Could’st thou find human utterance, to impart All the bright secrets treasured in thy heart— Dark would the history be! Well might’st thou moralize On worldly hopes—thou that canst boast a span, Ne’er in Time’s earliest records reached by man— The mighty, nor the wise. Briefer than thine, oh tree! Earth’s glories are; for thou hast seen them pass, Age after age, as in a magic glass— Yet change comes not to thee. Still may Time pass thee by, Untouched, unscathed—sparing thee still to bind Us to the Past—thou that art close entwined With its strange history. ----- [3] The creaking sound made by the branches of this aged willow, when moved by the wind, is believed by the superstitious Arabs to proceed from spirits dwelling among its foliage; and the fact that neither birds or insects ever frequent the tree, and that no flowers thrive in its vicinity, confirms them in their credulous belief. * * * * * =SONNET—VIRTUE.= =BY WM. ALEXANDER.= Hail! holy Virtue! sweet celestial guest! To earth descending from the realms above, Erst camest thou a dear messenger of love! Man’s friend, be he or happy or distrest— Bright emanation of the eternal Mind, Thou express image of the One most high, The God of gods—of matchless purity—