The same leaves over and over again!

They fall from giving shade above

To make one texture of faded brown

And fit the earth like a leather glove.


Before the leaves can mount again

To fill the trees with another shade,

They must go down past things coming up.                 T

hey must go down into the dark decayed.


They must be pierced by flowers and put

Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.

However it is in some other world

I know that this is the way in ours.


Robert Frost, In Hardwood Groves