But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves,

standing alone there, without its friend, its lover near — for I knew I could not,

And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss,

And brought it away — and I have placed it in sight in my room,

It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends,

(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)

Yet it remains to me a curious token — it makes me think of manly love ;

For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana, solitary, in a wide fiat space,+

Uttering joyous leaves all its life, without a friend, a lover, near,

I know very well I could not.

Music always round me, unceasing, unbeginning — yet long untaught I did not hear,

But now the chorus I hear, and am elated,

A tenor, strong, ascending, with power and health, with glad notes of day-break I hear,

A soprano, at intervals, sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense waves,

A transparent base, shuddering lusciously under and through the universe,