Under the Linden Branches

Under the linden branches They sit and whisper; Hardly a quiver Of leaves, hardly a lisp or Sigh in the air. Under the linden branches They sit, and shiver At the slow air's fingers Drawn through the linden branches Where the year's sweet lingers; And sudden avalanches Of memories, fears, Shake from the linden branches Upon them sitting With hardly a sigh or a whisper Or quiver of tears.