Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

POPLAR LEAVES by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON

First Line: THE WIND BLOWS DOWN THE DUSTY STREET
Last Line: AS FRESH AS POPLAR LEAVES.
Subject(s): LEAVES; POPLAR TREES;
THE wind blows down the dusty street;
And through my soul that grieves --
It brings a sudden odour sweet:
A scent of poplar leaves.

O leaves that herald in the spring,
O freshness young and pure,
Into my weary soul you bring
The vigour to endure.

The wood is near, but out of sight,
Where all the poplars grow;
Straight up and tall and silver white,
They quiver in a row.

My love is out of sight, but near;
And through my soul that grieves
A sudden memory wafts her here
As fresh as poplar leaves.



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