WE lead the life of desk and book, the higher life that strives —
But oh! the little leaves of birch that ripple round our lives!
We pore upon the shadowed past, where all is said and done —
But oh! the little leaves of green, translucent in the sun!
We share the anguish of the world, the half-defeat, the fear —
But oh! the little leaves of birch that bring the glory near!
We wait in vain a leader’s cry, we fall, exhausted, weak —
But oh! the little leaves of green that do not need to speak!