An untouched green murmur. The figtree wants to extend me its branches.
Like a panther its shadow Stalks my poet shadow.
The moon has words with the dogs. She is mistaken and begins over.
Yesterday, tomorrow, black, and green Troop around my circle of laurel.
Where would you look for my lifetime If I exchanged my heart?
-- And the figtree shouts at me and advances Terrible and extended.
The scene opens gently, with a green murmur and a figtree reaching out its branches as if in welcome. But the mood turns quickly. The tree's shadow moves like a panther, hunting the speaker's own "poet shadow," and the night fills with strange activity: the moon argues with dogs, gets it wrong, and starts again. Time itself, in the form of yesterday, tomorrow, black and green, circles him in a ring of laurel, the traditional crown of poets.
The central question is unsettling. If he were to "exchange" his heart, where would anyone find his lifetime? The speaker seems to feel that his life and his identity as a poet are tied to something he could lose or trade away. By the end, the friendly tree has become a shouting, advancing, terrible presence. The poem feels dreamlike and charged with menace, as though inspiration and danger arrive together.