Breeze, that walks through.
Oh the trees dancing in the breeze!
As the twilight sun shines the meadows,
O, the sparkling green leaves and shallow shoots.
Tender stem and whittling leaves,
What more is mere joy?
In leisure I sit, stand and stare and,
The trees are as fair as an artist’s masterpiece.
Lovely matice!
Light or dark, I find you in your embrace O tree!
Perhaps but profound we all solace joy,
Leisure and no work where we sit and stare at
but a tree!
