Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BURNHAM-BEECHES, by HENRY LUTTRELL



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BURNHAM-BEECHES, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: A bard, dear muse, unapt to sing
Last Line: Farewell to burnham beeches.
Subject(s): Beech Trees; Trees


A BARD, dear Muse, unapt to sing,
Your friendly aid beseeches,
Help me to touch the lyric string,
In praise of Burnham beeches.

What though my tributary lines
Be less like Pope's than Creech's,
The theme, if not the poet, shines,
So bright are Burnham beeches.

O'er many a dell and upland walk,
Their sylvan beauty reaches,
Of Birnam wood let Scotland talk,
While we've our Burnham beeches.

Oft do I linger, oft return
(Say, who my taste impeaches),
Where holly, juniper, and fern,
Spring up round Burnham beeches.

Though deep embowered their shades among,
The owl at midnight screeches,
Birds of far merrier, sweeter song,
Enliven Burnham beeches.

If 'sermons be in stones', I'll bet
Our vicar when he preaches,
He'll find it easier far to get
A hint from Burnham beeches.

Their glossy rind here winter stains,
Here the hot solstice bleaches.
Bow, stubborn oaks! bow, graceful plancs!
Ye match not Burnham beeches.

Gardens may boast a tempting show
Of nectarines, grapes, and peaches
But daintiest truffles lurk below
The boughs of Burnham beeches.

Poets and painters, hither hie,
Here ample room for each is
With pencil and with pen to try
His hand at Burnham beeches.

When monks, by holy Church well schooled,
Were lawyers, statesmen, leeches,
Cured souls and bodies, judged or ruled,
Then flourished Burnham beeches,

Skirting the convent's walls of yore,
As yonder ruin teaches.
But shaven crown and cowl no more
Shall darken Burnham beeches.

Here bards have mused, here lovers true
Have dealt in softest speeches,
While suns declined, and, parting, threw
Their gold o'er Burnham beeches.

O ne'er may woodman's axe resound
Nor tempest, making breaches
In the sweet shade that cools the ground
Beneath our Burnham beeches.

Hold! though I'd fain be jingling on,
My power no further reaches--
Again that rhyme! enough--I've done,
Farewell to Burnham beeches.





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