One by one, like leaves from a tree All my faiths have forsaken me;
But the stars above my head Burn in white and delicate red,
And beneath my feet the earth Brings the sturdy grass to birth.
I who was content to be But a silken-singing tree,
But a rustle of delight In the wistful heart of night— I have lost the leaves that knew Touch of rain and weight of dew.
Blinded by a leafy crown I looked neither up nor down— But the little leaves that die Have left me room to see the sky;
Now for the first time I know Stars above and earth below.
