A thin shrill row of poplars, Pruned to wall a road, Stands stiff against the sun. Each limb is cut to measure, Almost the leaves are numbered; Their thin heads thrust Narrowed pain Toward the uncaught sky. Their beauty trapped, they stand Defiant! And burn their shadow bars Across the road they guard. Their leaves hum unlearned madrigals To the winking sun. They fling clandestine kisses To a comrade cloud. . . . With synchronized solemnity They yield obeisance to the manor . . . And laugh -- derisively! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COOPER SQUARE by KAREN SWENSON SONNET: 78 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE DRAPIER'S HILL by JONATHAN SWIFT A MAY NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE WANDERING JEW by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN DEAD IN HIS BED by ADDIE LUCIA BALLOU |