The Giving Tree

Once there was a tree.... and she loved a little boy. And everyday the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek.

Birches

When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells

Before The Throne Of Beauty Xxvi

One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamor of the city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley. I pursued the beckoning course of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from the touching the earth. I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul - my thirsty soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness. I was engrossed deeply in thought and my spirits were sailing the firmament when a hour, wearing a sprig of grapevine that covered part of her naked body, and a wreath of poppies about her golden hair, suddenly appeared to me. As she she realized my astonishment, she greeted me saying, 'Fear me not; I am the Nymph of the Jungle.'

A Girl

The tree has entered my hands, The sap has ascended my arms, The tree has grown in my breast - Downward, The branches grow out of me, like arms. Tree you are, Moss you are, You are violets with wind above them. A child - so high - you are,

An Old Man's Winter Night

All out of doors looked darkly in at him Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. What kept him from remembering what it was That brought him to that creaking room was age. He stood with barrels round him -- at a loss. And having scared the cellar under him In clomping there, he scared it once again

Laughter And Tears Ix

As the Sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley. When the birds took shelter among the boughs, and the flowers folded their petals, and tremendous silence descended, I heard a rustle of feet though the grass. I took heed and saw a young couple approaching my arbor. The say under a tree where I could see them without being seen.

A Work Of Artifice

The bonsai tree in the attractive pot could have grown eighty feet tall on the side of a mountain till split by lightning. But a gardener carefully pruned it. It is nine inches high. Every day as he whittles back the branches

Music

When music sounds, gone is the earth I know, And all her lovely things even lovelier grow; Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies. When music sounds, out of the water rise Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes, Rapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face, With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.

Naming Of Parts

Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday, We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning, We shall have what to do after firing. But today, Today we have naming of parts. Japonica Glistens likecoral in all the neighboring gardens, And today we have naming of parts. This is the lower sling swivel. And this Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see, When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,

Love And Harmony

Love and harmony combine, And round our souls entwine While thy branches mix with mine, And our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit, Chirping loud and singing sweet; Like gentle streams beneath our feet Innocence and virtue meet.

I Had A Little Nut-Tree,

I had a little nut-tree, Nothing would it bear. I searched in all its branches, But not a nut was there. 'Oh, little tree,' I begged, 'Give me just a few.' The little tree looked down at me And whispered, 'Nuts to you.'

The Wild Iris

At the end of my suffering there was a door. Hear me out: that which you call death I remember. Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting. Then nothing. The weak sun flickered over the dry surface.

You Come To Me Quiet As Rain Not Yet Fallen

You come to me quiet as rain not yet fallen Afraid of how you might fail yourself your dress seven summers old is kept open in memory of sex, smells warm, of boys, and of the once long grass. But we are colder now; we have not Love’s first magic here. You come to me Quiet as bulbs not yet broken Out into sunlight.

Streets

A man leaves the world and the streets he lived on grow a little shorter. One more window dark in this city, the figs on his branches will soften for birds. If we stand quietly enough evenings there grows a whole company of us

* Love Or Lust *

The drought kills the thirst Harvest is a rarity Dry winds dance in skin deep heat Leaves abandon trees Grounds crack in branches I walk in pain As needles climb up my feet My lungs shiver of dryness My heart pumps like a drum beat Somewhere under the canopy

Elegy For Jane

(My student, thrown by a horse) I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils; And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile; And how, once started into talk, the light syllables leaped for her. And she balanced in the delight of her thought, A wren, happy, tail into the wind, Her song trembling the twigs and small branches. The shade sang with her; The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,

Against Winter

The truth is dark under your eyelids. What are you going to do about it? The birds are silent; there's no one to ask. All day long you'll squint at the gray sky. When the wind blows you'll shiver like straw. A meek little lamb you grew your wool Till they came after you with huge shears. Flies hovered over open mouth, Then they, too, flew off like the leaves,

A Song Of Enchantment

A song of Enchantment I sang me there, In a green-green wood, by waters fair, Just as the words came up to me I sang it under the wild wood tree. Widdershins turned I, singing it low, Watching the wild birds come and go; No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen Under the thick-thatched branches green.

Mount Kearsarge Shines

Mount Kearsarge shines with ice; from hemlock branches snow slides onto snow; no stream, creek, or river budges but remains still. Tonight we carry armloads of logs from woodshed to Glenwood and build up the fire that keeps the coldest night outside our windows. Sit by the woodstove, Camilla, while I bring glasses of white,

Imagine

. Imagine how Long was the night And it broke into a day Loaded with shadows — As deep