THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS
Reading edition
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?