In a hardwood grove, the speaker sees the same cycle repeat itself: leaves that once made shade overhead drop and settle into a uniform layer of faded brown, lying against the earth like a leather glove. There is no shortcut back to the treetops. Before they can rise and fill the branches with new shade, the leaves must go down through the things pushing upward and into the dark, decayed soil. They are pierced by flowers and lie beneath the feet of dancing flowers. The image is both grim and strangely joyful—new life literally breaks through the old. The speaker notes that, however it might happen in some other world, this is the way it works in ours. The tone is quiet, earthy, and accepting, with a kind of reverence for the necessary decay that feeds new life.
In Hardwood Groves — Summary
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.