Quiet Talk
Tree-talk is breathing quietly today
Of coming autumn and the staleness over—
Pause of high summer when the year's at stay,
And the wind's sick that now moves like a lover.
On valley ridges where our beeches cluster
Or changing ashes guarding slopes of plough,
He goes now sure of heart, now with a fluster
Of teasing purpose. Night shall find him grow
To dark strength and a cruel spoiling will.
First he will baffle streams and dull their bright,
Cower and threaten both about the hill—
Before their death trees have their full delight.
Of coming autumn and the staleness over—
Pause of high summer when the year's at stay,
And the wind's sick that now moves like a lover.
On valley ridges where our beeches cluster
Or changing ashes guarding slopes of plough,
He goes now sure of heart, now with a fluster
Of teasing purpose. Night shall find him grow
To dark strength and a cruel spoiling will.
First he will baffle streams and dull their bright,
Cower and threaten both about the hill—
Before their death trees have their full delight.
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