Winter Words Op. 52: 1. At Day-close in November by Benjamin Britten Lyrics

The ten hours’ light is abating
      And a late bird wings across
Where the pines, like waltzers waiting, waiting
      Give their black heads a toss
Beech leaves, that yellow the noontime
     Float past like specks, like specks in the eye;
I set every tree in my June time
      And now they obscure the sky
And the children who ramble through here
      Conceive that there never has been
A time when no trees, no tall trees grew here
      That none will in time be seen