Where, in some tiny eddy’s play,
The fallen leaves so fitful fret,
Like Hope, when we would hold it yet,
And it would fain be far away.
How beautiful the beechen tree!
A beechen tree of giant mould,
Whose roots did many a rock unfold.
Entwining them, as you might see:
For, branching from the parent stem,
A velvet moss just covered them;