THE poplars run before me as a child And hide behind the bend. I find in all this silent loveliness Of trees a quaint, sweet friend. With green and purple thoughts, I walk the hills; I linger near the sea Not for the deeper shadows to come on With evening mystery. Nor for the red canoe of sunset on Its way to whiter streams; Nor for the overtones that stars and moon Give me and take -- night's dreams. There is a something in my Hebrew blood That life has given me And still withheld. . . I have and yet have not A tree, a hill, a sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIVIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON A TUFT OF GRASS by EMMA LAZARUS THE ARABIAN SHAWL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD RICHARD BOOTH TO HIS SON JUNIUS BRUTUS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IS YOUR TOWN NINEVEH? by MARIANNE MOORE TO A PACIFIST FRIEND by GEORGE SANTAYANA TROY PARK: 1. THE WARMTH OF SPRING by EDITH SITWELL |