Today, dear friend, this gray 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 foot-prints,	  
Melting away because of their passion!


 = Leon Branton