Because thou'rt not an oak To breast the thunder-stroke, Or flamy-fruited yew Darker than Time, how few Of birds or men or kine Will love this throne of thine, Scant Poplar, without shade Inhospitably made! Yet, branches never parted From their straight secret bole, Yet, sap too single-hearted! Prosper as my soul. In loneliness, in quaint Perpetual constraint, In gallant poverty, A girt and hooded tree, See if against the gale Our leafage can avail: Lithe, equal, naked, true, Rise up as spirits do, And be a spirit crying Before the folk that dream! My slender early-dying Poplar, by the stream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MADEIRA FROM THE SEA by SARA TEASDALE IDYLL 1. LAMENT FOR ADONIS by BION THE CHARIOT by EMILY DICKINSON THIS SUMMER AND LAST by THOMAS HARDY THE FEILIRE OF ADAMNAN by ADAMNAN VERSES FOR CHILDREN: MAPLE TREE by ZEDA K. AILES THE POET'S SOLILOQUY by E. M. AVERILL THE LAY OF ST. CUTHBERT; OR THE DEVIL'S DINNER-PARTY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |