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...IN THE TRENCHES by RICHARD ALDINGTON A MAN'S VOCATION IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS by JAMES GALVIN HOW THEY GO ON by JAMES GALVIN OLD MEN ON THE COURTHOUSE LAWN, MURRAY, KENTUCKY by JAMES GALVIN I'M GOING BACK TO SOMETHING by DAVID IGNATOW HOPE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |