In the high leaves of a walnut, br On the very topmost boughs, br A boy that climbed the branching bole br His cradled limbs would house. br br On the airy bed that rocked him br Long, idle hours he'd lie br Alone with white clouds sailing br The warm blue of the sky. br br I remember not what his dreams were; br But the scent of a leaf's enough br To house me higher than those high boughs br In a youth he knew not of, br br In a light that no day brings now br But none can spoil or smutch, br A magic that I felt not then br And only now I touch.