The trees are coming into leaf <br />Like something almost being said; <br />The recent buds relax and spread, <br />Their greenness is a kind of grief. <br /> <br />Is it that they are born again <br />And we grow old? No, they die too, <br />Their yearly trick of looking new <br />Is written down in rings of grain. <br /> <br />Yet still the unresting castles thresh <br />In fullgrown thickness every May. <br />Last year is dead, they seem to say, <br />Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.<br /><br />Philip Larkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-trees/
