" Being but men, we walked into the trees
Afraid, letting our syllables be soft
For fear of waking the rooks
For fear of coming
Noiselessly into a world of wings and cries.
If we were children we might climb,
Catch the rooks sleeping, and break no twig,
And after the soft ascent,
Thrust out our heads above the branches
To wonder at the unfailing stars.
Out
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