(no subject)
Epitaph
An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high gright tendrils
and sang:
Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood's edge.
Thursday
I have had my dream--like others--
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
and look up at the sky--
feeling my clothes about me,
the weight of my body in my shoes,
the rim of my hat, air passing in and out
at my nose--
and decide to dream no more.
William Carlos Williams
An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high gright tendrils
and sang:
Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood's edge.
Thursday
I have had my dream--like others--
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
and look up at the sky--
feeling my clothes about me,
the weight of my body in my shoes,
the rim of my hat, air passing in and out
at my nose--
and decide to dream no more.
William Carlos Williams