As I Stood At The Door Sheltered Out Of The Wind, Something Flew In Which I Hardly Could Find. In The Dim, Gloomy Doorway I Searched Till I Found A Dry Withered Leaf Lying Down On The Ground. With Thin, Pointed Claws And A Dry Dusty Skin,, Sure A Hall Is No Place For A Leaf To Be In! Oh Where Is Your Tree, And Your Summer And All, Poor Dusty Leaf Whistled Into A Hall?