The trees along this city street,
       Save for the traffic and the trains,
     Would make a sound as thin and sweet
       As trees in country lanes.

     And people standing in their shade
       Out of a shower, undoubtedly
     Would hear such music as is made
       Upon a country tree.

     Oh, little leaves that are so dumb
       Against the shrieking city air,
     I watch you when the wind has come,—
       I know what sound is there.


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It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.