Perhaps, a tree, a sweet slim tree, And when the wind with fluted strings Sends little joyous signalings I twirl my painted skirts and dance a gay coupee! The passerby can only see Me knitting soberly. At times, a gull, a storm-swept gull, I fight my way from crest to crest My heart congealed within my breast! I rise! I fall! To rise again with ecstasy! The passerby can only see Me knitting placidly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL, FR. ROSALIND [ROSALYNDE] by THOMAS LODGE THE ICONOCLAST by WILLIAM ROSE BENET RANCH WOMAN by MARGARET CARROLL BRADY BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 3. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |