What
do they mean, who say
The
world has gone awry?
The
trees leave every day.
I
saw them in July,
As
green as the heart of man.
I
see men stiffly clad,
Colored
in gray and tan,
Calling
our summer bad
For
insufficient shade,
Damning
our leaves as small,
Making
their wrath a blade,
Hurrying
us to fall.
If
only our lives were sad,
If
we saw that we had
Outlasted
our summer stay,
They'd
happily love us all
And
tidy us away.
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