Through the deep night the leaves speak, tree to tree.
Where are the stars? the frantic clouds ride high,
The swelling gusts of wind blow down the sky,
Shaking the thoughts from the leaves, garrulously.
Through the deep night, articulate to me,
They question your untimely passing-by;
Your spring is still in flower, must you fly
Windswept so soon down lanes of memory?
Through the deep night the trees recount the past,
The lovers that have long ago gone hence,
And whom you joined ere love had reached her prime.
Chill with an early autumn's immanence,
Through the dark night plunges the sudden blast,
Sweeping the young leaves down before their time.