Winter Words Op. 52: 1. At Day-close in November - Ian Bostridge, Antonio Pappano, Бенджамин Бриттен

The ten hours' light is abating

And a late bird wings across

Where the pines, like waltzers waiting

Give their black heads a toss

Beech leaves, that yellow the noontime

Float past like specks in the eye;

I set every tree in my June time

And now they obscure the sky

And the children who ramble through here

Conceive that there never has been

A time when no tall trees grew here

That none will in time be seen