I HASTENED near my silver trees
At the dusk hour, when nothing stirred
Save only they, and faintly these
Hung trembling; and I heard.

Meadow and mere beside the way
Shone mute in twilight, but unrest
Shook from the leaves ‘Oh hastener stay,
Turn backward from your quest’.

Aspens are tender to entreat,
Prone to remember, know your need,
Feel most how joy is fatal fleet,
Speak last, that you may heed.