Beneath the accustomed dome

Of this chance-planted, many-centuried tree

The snake-marked earthy multitudes are come 

To breathe their hour like me. 

 

The leaf comes curling down, 

Another and another, gleam on gleam; 

Above, celestial leafage glistens on,

Borne by time’s blue stream.

​

By 

Edmund Blunden ( 1916)