Perhaps the woods intended us to stay
And see its wisdom in another way,
We could not tell what it was thinking then,
We had no ancestry by which to know.

We ignored the lone horse in the grass when
It would not raise its green head and go;
The pines needed trimming, the rocks water,
The winds blew as if we did not matter.

And what monarchs are we that woods to blame
If it recalls not our number and name?
We intruded in its private feeling
And had no password to protect our lie.

Perhaps there was no use in our stealing
Its secret wisdom why it cannot die;
Nevertheless we laughed as best we could
Because we are helpless while we are loved.