I've quit my father's home
And left blue Russ. With three
Bright stars the birch-tree grove
Consoles my mother's grief.

The moon has, like a frog,
Upon the pond appeared.
Like apple blossom, locks
Of grey fleck father's beard.

I shall not soon come back!
Long shall snow blow in the yard.
Our one-legged maple shall
Over blue Russ stand guard.

To kiss its raining leaves
Is joy, and none so fine -
The head of the maple-tree
So closely resembles mine.