Once, walking home, I passed beneath a Tree,
It filled the air like dark stone statuary,
It was so quiet and still,
Its thick green leaves a hill
Of strange and faint earth-branching melody:

Over a wall it hung its leaf-starred wood.
And as I lonely there beneath it stood,
In that sky-hollow street
Where rang no human feet,
Sweet music flowed and filled me with its flood;

And all my weariness then fell away,
The houses were more lovely than by day;
The Moon and that old Tree
Sang there; and secretly,
With throbbing heart, tip-toe I stole away.