each bough as a lute
dropping the notes of ripen leaves
the tunes flying on the canvas of earth
with the frenzied dance of wind brush

as the pride of passion
on every stump the lyrics sprouting
it is the symphony of seasons
it is the renewal of age old ballad

it is the chorus that of the labour pains of every soul
it is the echo that of the blooming new world

every thought flutter like butter-fly
carry the pollen of future seed
pollination is the meditation of every hue
it is the copulation of fare-well and wel-come

the autumn's shadows of trees
the spring's streams on the cheek of pregnant
it is the melodious cry of fairies

if not remembered --the past symphonic tragedy
it cannot be summoned --the future ballad of comedy!