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