Flying leaves the wild Spring scatters, <br />From the silver blossomed trees, <br />Let them fall—it little matters; <br />Fresh-born buds will greet each breeze. <br />Flying leaves, grim Winter strewing, <br />Shudder thro' the forest glades, <br />All their beauty past renewing <br />Round his footsteps falls and fades. <br />Flying leaves come floating hither; <br />'Everlasting' these will prove, <br />Leaves that never fall or wither, <br />Crown the brow of constant love.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flying-leaves/
