The Trees Are Down
They are cutting down the great plane-trees at the end of the gardens. Did once, for a moment, unmake the Spring. I might never have thought of him again. It is not for a moment the Spring is unmade to-day; These were great trees, it was in them from root to stem: When the men with the ’Whoops’ and the ’Whoas’ have carted the whole of the whispering loveliness away Half the Spring, for me, will have gone with them. It is going now, and my heart has been struck with the hearts of the planes; Half my life it has beat with these, in the sun, in the rains, In the March wind, the May breeze, In the great gales that came over to them across the roofs from the great seas. There was only a quiet rain when they were dying; They must have heard the sparrows flying, And the small creeping creatures in the earth where they were lying But I, all day, I heard an angel crying: ’Hurt not the trees’. ※本文作者:佚名※ |