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Updated: May 3, 2025
There is a rather pretty legend recalling the old Greek dream of dryads about a willow-tree which grew in the garden of a samurai of Kyoto. Owing to its weird reputation, the tenant of the homestead desired to cut it down; but another samurai dissuaded him, saying: 'Rather sell it to me, that I may plant it in my garden.
But where does Laura pass her lonely hours? Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree? Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flowr's Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee? "Ah, Laura, no," the constant Silvio cries, "For thee a never-fading wreath I'll twine; Though bright the rose, its bloom too swiftly flies, No emblem meet for love so true as mine.
I suppose he is going upon the old Business of the Willow-Tree. As Sir ROGER was giving me this Account of Tom Touchy, Will. Wimble and his two Companions stopped short till we came up to them. After having paid their Respects to Sir ROGER, Will. told him that Mr. Touchy and he must appeal to him upon a Dispute that arose between them.
Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship." "And what, pray, is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend?" asked a green Linnet, who was sitting in a willow-tree hard by, and had overheard the conversation.
"I know that the squire has said he will eat no other berries than those which grow in our family; and there are so very few of us. I also heard a bird sing that he had come home from Italy; and I am sure that, if he knew I grew up here, he would himself climb up and pick my berries." "Lord preserve us!" said the willow-tree. "Would the squire himself really climb into my top?
For that happened to be his mood that day. "Did you hear the squire praise me?" said the willow-tree, when he had gone. "Goodness gracious!" said the nearest poplar. "Did we hear him? It's a perfect scandal! He talked just like a common peasant. But, of course, that comes of marrying a kitchen-maid. It's the truest thing that ever was said, that birds of a feather fly together."
They had all vanished now; a cheerful coat of paint and golden-tinted paper-hangings lighted up the small apartment; while the shadow of a willow-tree that swept against the overhanging eaves atempered the cheery western sunshine. In place of the grim prints there was the sweet and lovely head of one of Raphael's Madonnas, and two pleasant little pictures of the Lake of Como.
If only they would come and take you away altogether, so that you couldn't stand there and disgrace us like a horrible, withered stick!" "A family-scandal ... a scandal ... a scandal," whispered the poplars along the avenue. "I don't feel at all withered, oddly enough," said the willow-tree. "I don't know either that I have done anything to be ashamed of.
"Now then," said Sam, wheezing away at a dreadful rate, "I'm not going with you, you know, so you take the bellows, Master Harry; and I should take some boughs, if I were you, and beat the wopses off if they gets loose. The nest is in the plantation, in the dead willow-tree that lies by the path; so now go on, and good luck to you."
No, look here, it's the earth I'm anxious about." "And the most important thing too," said the oak. "But that's the willow-tree's business. If he wants to run an hotel for flowers in his head, he must provide earth: that goes without saying." "Yes, but is there no earth, my dear Dandelion?" asked the willow-tree. "There is," said the dandelion. "And good earth too: it's not that.
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