In Hardwood Groves

The same leaves over and over again! They fall from giving shade above To make one texture of faded brown And fit the earth like a leather glove.

Before the leaves can mount again To fill the trees with another shade, They must go down past things coming up, They must go down into the dark decayed.

They must be pierced by flowers and put Beneath the feet of dancing flowers. However it is in some other world I know that this is the way in ours.