Classic Poem

Today, dear friend, this grey 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 footprints,
Melting away because of their passion!