A STRANGELY introspective piece from Robert Frost about the deep hypnotic link between man and trees.

It comes from a Penguin Poets edition of his work, chosen by himself, first published in 1955 with introduction by C Day Lewis.

THE SOUND OF THE TREES

I wonder about the trees.

Why do we wish to bear

Forever the noise of these

More than another noise

So close to our dwelling place?

We suffer them by the day

Till we lose all measure of pace,

And fixity in our joys,

And acquire a listening air.

They are that that talks of going,

But never gets away;

And that talks no less for knowing,

As it grows wiser and older,

That now it means to stay.

My feet tug at the floor

And my head sways to my shoulder

Sometimes when I watch trees sway,

From the window or the door.

I shall set forth for somewhere,

I shall make the reckless choice

Some day when they are in voice

And tossing so as to scare

The white clouds over then on.

I shall have less to say,

But I shall be gone.