Una shook her head and said nothing. 'I see,' said her father. Late-late in the evening Kilmeny came home, But why are you chewing leaves at your time of life, daughter? For fun?' 'No. It was for something, but I can't azactly remember,' said Una. And neither of them could till— A TREE SONG Of all the trees that grow so fair, Greater are none beneath the Sun, Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good Sirs (All of a Midsummer morn)! Surely we sing no little thing, In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Oak of the Clay lived many a day, Ash of the Loam was a lady at home, When Brut was an outlaw man; Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town (From which was London born); Witness hereby the ancientry Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! Yew that is old in churchyard mould, He breedeth a mighty bow; Alder for shoes do wise men choose, But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled, Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth To drop a limb on the head of him, Or mellow with ale from the horn, Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight, Or he would call it a sin; But we have been out in the woods all night And we bring you news by word of mouth— Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good Sirs |