278. The Cedars
By Josephine Preston Peabody

ALL down the years the fragrance came,
The mingled fragrance, with a flame,
Of cedars breathing in the sun,
The cedar-trees of Lebanon. 
O thirst of song in bitter air, 5
And hope, wing-hurt from iron care,
What balm of myrrh and honey, won
From far-off trees of Lebanon! 
Not from these eyelids yet have I
Ever beheld that early sky. 10
Why do they call me through the sun?—
Even the trees of Lebanon?

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