Fallen from thy parent bough, <br />Poor wither'd leaf, where goest thou? <br />From the mountain to the vale, <br />From the forest to the hill <br />I flutter, carried by the gale, <br />Hither, thither, at its will. <br /> <br />I go where each thing goes, <br />Without complaint or grief, <br />The leaf of the withered rose <br />And the faded laurel leaf.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/translation-from-millevoye/
