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As vain to
raise a voice as a sigh In the tumult of free leaves
on high. What are you in the shadow of trees
Engaged up there with the light and breeze?
Less
than the coral-root you know That is content with the
daylight low, And has no leaves at all of its own;
Whose spotted flowers hang meanly down.
You grasp
the bark by a rugged pleat, And look up small from
the forest's feet. The only leaf it drops goes wide,
Your name not written on either side.
You linger
your little hour and are gone, And still the wood
sweep leafily on, Not even missing the coral-root
flower You took as a trophy of the hour.
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