That throbs with the rhythm

Of the orchestra.

The wind moans, and

Strong, black branches

Sway slowly,

Mark the beat,

Then stop.

The wind hums,

Delicate, lacelike tops

Quiver and ripple

With the quick response

Of the violins.

With the shriek of the wind

They writhe and toss,

Measuring the crescendo

Of the brasses.

[Pg 26]

[Pg 26]

 Contrast

In an old world palace,

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