winter words, op. 52: 1. at day-close in november - benjamin britten lyrics
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the ten hours’ light is abating
and a late bird wings across
where the pines, like waltzers waiting, waiting
give their black heads a toss
beech leaves, that yellow the noontime
float past like specks, like specks in the eye;
i set every tree in my june time
and now they obscure the sky
and the children who ramble through here
conceive that there never has been
a time when no trees, no tall trees grew here
that none will in time be seen
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