| I WONDER about the trees. | |
| Why do we wish to bear | |
| Forever the noise of these | |
| More than another noise | |
| So close to our dwelling place? | 5 |
| We suffer them by the day | |
| Till we lose all measure of pace, | |
| And fixity in our joys, | |
| And acquire a listening air. | |
| They are that that talks of going | 10 |
| But never gets away; | |
| And that talks no less for knowing, | |
| As it grows wiser and older, | |
| That now it means to stay. | |
| My feet tug at the floor | 15 |
| And my head sways to my shoulder | |
| Sometimes when I watch trees sway, | |
| From the window or the door. | |
| I shall set forth for somewhere, | |
| I shall make the reckless choice | 20 |
| Some day when they are in voice | |
| And tossing so as to scare | |
| The white clouds over them on. | |
| I shall have less to say, | |
| But I shall be gone. | 25 |
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