I must tell you
this young tree
whose round and firm trunk
between the wet
pavement and the gutter
(where water
is trickling) rises
bodily
into the air with
one undulant
thrust half its height-
and then
dividing and waning
sending out
young branches on
all sides-
hung with cocoons
it thins
till nothing is left of it
but two
eccentric knotted
twigs
bending forward
hornlike at the top
Young Sycamore
William Carlos Williams
(1)
Poem topics: tree, water, I love you, I miss you, young, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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