Today, dear friend, this grey day, I have been explaining to a young man of the West Indies How the leaves all fall from the little branches And lie soon in crowds along the bare ground; How they lie On all sides so thick that no man May pass any way without touching them, Or hearing at his feet a great crying-out! But in no way at all could I have told him This that I tell you so easily: How having become wise as a flame with watching Above the year since that time he lifted His young face For a moment -- that time of the first passing -- They lie exultant, pressing his footprints, Melting away because of their passion! |