The Sound of the Trees

I wonder about the trees
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace
And fixity in our joys
And acquire a listening air
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing
As it grows wiser and older
That now it means to stay
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway
From the window or the door
I shall set forth for somewhere
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on
I shall have less to say
But I shall be gone