UNDER THE LINDEN BRANCHES

Under the linden branches

They sit and whisper;

Hardly a quiver

Of leaves, hardly a lisp or

Sigh in the air.

Under the linden branches

They sit, and shiver

At the slow air's fingers

Drawn through the linden branches

Where the year's sweet lingers;

And sudden avalanches

Of memories, fears,

Shake from the linden branches

Upon them sitting

With hardly a sigh or a whisper

Or quiver of tears.