Woods

Whenever the woods I walk among

Are very green and very young,

With leaves a-twinkle on every tree,

The heart begins to dance in me,

And my feet to caper from tree to tree

Over the sun-patched greenery.

But when the woods I walk among

Are very old, with mosses hung

In thin festoons of tattered gray,

And the green seems high and far away,

Oh, then I tiptoe from tree to tree,

For a hush is on the heart of me.