The trees are (turning) into leaf
Like (words) almost being said
The recent buds (grow) and spread
Their greenness is a kind of grief

Is it that they are (young) again
And we (growing) old? No, they (aged) too
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain

Yet still the unresting (wild) thresh
In fullgrown (on) every May
Last year (sweet) (dreams) they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, (afresh)