A beauty touched! A yellow leaf!
Which shines and stares from midnight beams,
That topples waves with every motion
In yellow glaze and bright commotion!

  Not distraught by distant wind,
The yellow park leaflet rides,
Among the arch, among the brim
Abound a wood— stood sitting high:

And branches tight, which sit them fair—
Not caught up by their troubles them—
Swallowed by some ancient air,
And there I stood, beauty'd in:

Felt it did, in inertias touch,
Oh gentle leaf in gentle cusp,
You kiss despite a wind-eye breeze—
You sit and yet you give enough
A night wood, beauty-yellow tree.

As I,
Once lived;
On great mountains;
Making not a piece of sound.
And    in    my    dying   moments,
I lay silent in a bed of pretty flowers.
I’m crushed, with my skin of shaded brown,
Now  a part of the Earth' ground as it  erodes.
In the wind, I whisper whisperings of my time,
A  forgotten  season lost in winter,  and  life.
In  a  forest  filled  to  the  brim  of  d­reams,
Parked       underneath        the       shade,
Once      guarded,        and      unafraid.
And      ­    what           a         shame,
Soon      I’ll      be      gone
With     the     wind,
Forgotten
Of
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