[Verse 1 - Solo guitar, fingerpicked, sparse] The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief. [Verse 2 - Guitar continues, cello enters on a low, sustained note, holds] Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too. Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain. [Verse 3 - Cello continues, piano enters with single, distant high notes] Yet still the unresting castles thresh In fullgrown thickness every May. Last year is dead, they seem to say, Begin afresh, afresh, afresh. [Outro - All instruments hold. Vocals drop out. The cello plays a slow, descending line, resolving a half-step lower than expected. The guitar strums once, open, and lets it ring into silence. Piano: one final note, held until it fades completely.]
