Brown Leaves

Now are come the days of brown leaves
They fall from the trees,
They flutter on the ground
When the brown leaves flutter
They are saying little things

They talk with the wind
I hear them tell of their borning days
When they did come into the world as leaves
And they whisper of the hoods they wore then.
I saw them I used to count them on my way to school
Oday they were talking of the time
Before their borning days of this Springtime

They talked on and on
And I did listen on to what they were telling
The wind and the earth in their whisperings

They told how they were apart of earth and air
Before their tree-borning days
And now they are going back
To gray days of winter
They go back to the earth again
But they do not die

And in the morning of today
It was that I did listen to
These talkings of the brown leaves
These talkings of the brown leaves
These talkings of the brown leaves