Classic Poem

What is there left? The wind makes answer
" I saw the green leaves grow brown and fall;
I danced with, the shadows, I the dancer
Among bare branches. For I, " he saith,
" Hear the thin music whistle and call,
Music, horn-music, the music of death. "

" There stands at the edge of the wood the player
Dark in the darkness, but I have seen,
Ere my feet were lifted, the branches stir.
Darker than dark, than light more fair,
Before I have come he slips between;
But I, the dancer, " wind saith, " do not care. "

" The leaves have fallen and who shall discover
What there is left in the blackened tree?
And who will know when the years are over,
Among bare branches if I, " wind saith,
" Dance where the shadows and music be,
Music, horn-music, the music of death? "