Ghe Stolen eaves.

   

HO stole my beautiful leaves?”

g Whispered the old Oak-tree;

“West-wind, South-wind, look
for the thieves!

Find them, and bring them to me.”

“Not I,” said North-wind; ‘oh, no,

I would not treat an old friend so;

I found them lying upon the ground,
Brown and dead, and I carried them round
To bring them to life
In the autumn sun,

But I did not steal
A single one.”
“Not I,” said North-wind; “oh! no,
I would not treat an old tree so.”

  

“Who stole my beautiful leaves?”
Said the weeping Willow tree;
*“West-wind, South-wind, look for the thieves!
Find them, and bring them to me,”
“Not I,” said the Frost; ‘oh! no,
I would not treat an old friend so;
I covered them over with crystals white,
And talked with them in the cold moonlight,
Till I felt the breath
Of the morning sun,
But I did not take
A single one.”
“Not I,” said the Frost; ‘oh! no,
I would not treat an old tree so.”

“Who stole my beautiful leaves?”

Said the shivering Maple-tree;

“West-wind, South-wind, look for the thieves!
Find them, and bring them to me.”

“Not I,” said the Sun; “oh! no,

I would not treat an old friend so;

I painted-your leaves all scarlet and green, ©
With rows of crimson and gold between,

And I saw them fade
Ere my work was done,
But I did not take
A single one.”
“Not I,” said the Sun; ‘“‘oh! no,
I would not treat an old tree so.”

“Who stole my beautiful leaves?”
Echoed the Poplar-tree;
“West-wind, South-wind,
thieves! ,
Find them, and bring them to me.” —
“Not I,” said the Rain; ‘oh! no,
T would not treat an old friend so;
I mixed the shades of green and of gold
For the Sun to use, and I always told
The little rain-drops
Which way to run,
But I did not take
A single one.”
“Not I,” said the Rain; “oh! no, .
I would not treat an old tree so.”

look for the

“O Maple, Willow, and Oak,
No one stole your beautiful leaves;”
West-wind, South-wind, pitying said;
‘“North-wind, Frost, Sun, are not thieves;
They are dead, the Snow-flakes say;
I tell the tale another way:
Waiting in silence under the snow,
Are the souls of the leaves that shall upward
grow :
In the resurrection
Of the spring;

When violets bloom

And robins sing,
And new life your heart receives, gem
To your arms will spring the beautiful leaves!’,

 

Q