O. De to The Last Leaf

 

Through my window spy the tree

Downstairs I hear my family

The trunk is withered much like me

With brittle branches and no green

 

But downstairs I hear my family’s cheer

My window-tree now whispers clear,

with brittle branches, calm with fear,

“Come with me when I leave, my dear”

 

My window-tree now whispers close,

shortly after I lie in repose,

“Come with me, and shed the woes

the downstairs family bestows.”