Did you ever hear the voices In the leaflets of the trees, When at earliest morn they waken At the kisses of the breeze? Did you hear them laugh and prattle, Moan and sigh o'er hopes forlorn? Did you see them dance and flitter? As to say: "Good morn! Good morn!" Have you e'er at noon's bright hour, In the heat and toil of day, Stopped beneath some branch's shadow, Thrown across the dusty way! And as you, in darkest coolness, Caught the phantom of a tune, Did not every quivering leaflet Whisper soft, "'Tis golden noon?" And, at twilight's holy hour When the bee had gone to rest, And the sun, in royal garments, Disappeared beyond the west, Then a thousand sweet, low voices Sing and laugh in weird delight; Or, in gentle sadness, whisper In the breeze, "Good night! Good night!" |