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All crying,
'We will go with you, O Wind!'
The foliage follow
him, leaf and stem;
But a sleep oppresses them as
they go,
And they end by bidding them as they go,
And they end by bidding him stay with them.
Since
ever they flung abroad in spring
The leaves had
promised themselves this flight,
Who now would fain
seek sheltering wall,
Or thicket, or hollow place for
the night.
And now they answer his summoning
blast
With an ever vaguer and vaguer stir,
Or at
utmost a little reluctant whirl
That drops them no
further than where they were.
I only hope that
when I am free
As they are free to go in quest
Of
the knowledge beyond the bounds of life
It may not
seem better to me to rest.
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