Fain would I climb, yet fear I to fall. I am the voice of light’s gentle gale, For books I keep, in the cool of night, Chirps and songs of love in their tale.

Of the lovely nights of summer’s breath Are trees that sway whilst winds lead forth, So does my heart yearn for its sweetdoubt, As twilight casts their shadows henceforth.

— Falling Leaves

• William Shakespeare