THE LEAVES 



" Ye lispers, whisperers, singers in storms, 

 Ye consciences murmuring faiths under forms, 

 Ye ministers meet for each passi in that grieves, 

 Friendly, sisterly, sweetheart leaves. 

 As ye hang with your myriad palms upturned in the air, 

 Pray me a myriad prayer." Lanier. 



