Strength

I walk along the gray, wet path
In a garden of naked trees.
I see a solitary leaflet
Hangs dreaming on a twig.

It holds on fast with its stem,
Although trembling the while with fear;
For every second rushes past
The wind on the path.

And with every blast
The earth around quakes.

I look at the thin leaflet,
And consider ----
To be strong in such a stormy time
Is a hard trick.