Not all of lifted florescence Is worn of green-flamed spears; Though striving from twist of their rootlets To slow chant of years. Dreams—too ethereal to waken, May capture life at its flood: @3A Tree ... stark boughs once shaken, Rained blossoms of blood.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMI GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS EPISTLE TO MISS TERESA BLOUNT, ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN by ALEXANDER POPE PROVINCIA DESERTA by EZRA POUND SUMMER (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI STILL, STILL WITH THEE by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE |