Authors:
  • How innocent were these Trees, that in
    Mist-green May, blown by a prospering breeze,
    Stood garlanded and gay;
    Who now in sundown glow
    Of serious colour clad confront me with their show
    As though resigned and sad,
    Trees, who unwhispering stand umber, bronze, gold;
    Pavilioning the land for one grown tired and old;
    Elm, chestnut, aspen and pine, I am merged in you,
    Who tell once more in tones of time,
    Your foliaged farewell.

    Siegfried Sassoon (1956). “Sequences”