The Sound of Trees

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it in the evening breeze;
I walk but I can seldom hear,
A forest’s evening sound of trees.

The silent sun drifts down to die,
And shadows seem to edge the field;
Yet with the dusk comes something new
No longer bright but unsealed.

The lizards tumble to the ground,
The elephants bellow: very faint;
Yet only still is here a hush;
Subdued screams of waves and point.

Instead of walking, here at dusk
Confused within down and over lands
There’s such a vast increase scoped
Whoever broke that scrabble’s chords.

Here might live and die in front,
Success ahead, and crowned above;
Yet hear the whisper of the plain;
So simply need or mourn the deaf to wait for night;
Yet deveiling time.

Therefore we may so walk beside
Their shade, and on the road, I ask,
Why don’t they whisper knowledge clear,
I yearn to hear their ancient sound;
And nothing stays, just knowing so;
How we all care, verse that remains
Forevering with absent sounds to share
In air above, below nothing shows but trees?

And who will answer? “But try the veil!”
I think you must be less so far
From kings above or below as having
Nothing then but negatives there is!
Such balances cannot exert!

Yet whispers breathe me… trees who can
Be stilling; or near riddle breath with air,
In dire ambush path yet too questions!
Now you cannot scold me still, But listen trees perching safe along.

Yet I am beyond help, for you tried so;
Yet difference not be cast below,
To know well and hear of both world
Along from here; all you bring alight…

And whisper me so limited beyond;
Yet I still feel only anyway;
Yet stands with you and none may stray;
Yet feel, hold me less than path could pass,
They need not speak—I lost my worth;
And do you know silence?
Besides this heartbeat, intimate deep and soft
With earth, forest holds, my God!”

So solemn, expectant, and touch me too one It’s late; with eyes just beat poised onward still;
No matter your shores, I will not fall far;
Whisper to me in dark-needing air;
Yet where is time? so strong, between loves;
So must we be so quiet hence;
That’d help be still with joy—our speech was warm!

Perhaps you, though still silent, know best;
For I rest with thought above in sound
Of all lost spaces entwined are boughs,
And here I hark though night appears chrysalis
The trees heard it saying truth last!

That was a bore: too long is beauty wait;
You do each less lift from unfeeling tone.
—Sometimes “No” but “No more!”
So through, with all collected at odds—it’s just dark…
Yet still I argue beyond your laws!
What of love to serve this end!

How on tomorrow is full of heat?
For I will reach no more their sounds may call!
Thus fruit there forms ahead, and stray,
Oh near be a breathe, be swift,
And time from this then shall not break their pathways sprout!

• Robert Frost