The Poplar: Difference between revisions

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(Created page with "<meta author="Aldington, Richard" year_of_publication="1915" genre="Poetry" publisher="Houghton Mifflin Company" journal="Some Imagist Poets" page_range="10-11" /> <annotations> <paragraph keywords="tree"> <poem> </poem> </paragraph> <paragraph keywords="river, roadside, temperature"> <poem> Why do you always stand there shivering Between the white stream and the road? </poem> </paragraph> <paragraph keywords="dust, bicycle, car, road, scenery"> <poem> Th...")
 
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   genre="Poetry"
   genre="Poetry"
   publisher="Houghton Mifflin Company"
   publisher="Houghton Mifflin Company"
   journal="Some Imagist Poets"
   journal="Some Imagist Poets: An Anthology"
   page_range="10-11"
   page_range="10-11"
/>
/>

Latest revision as of 13:46, 16 July 2024

Bibliographic Information
Author Aldington, Richard
Genre Poetry
Journal or Book Some Imagist Poets: An Anthology
Publisher Houghton Mifflin Company
Year of Publication 1915
Pages 10-11
Additional information -


Why do you always stand there shivering
Between the white stream and the road?

riverroadsidetemperature


The people pass through the dust
On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars;
The waggoners go by at dawn;
The lovers walk on the grass path at night.

dustbicyclecarroadscenery


Stir from your roots, walk, poplar!
You are more beautiful than they are.


I know that the white wind loves you,
Is always kissing you and turning up
The white lining of your green petticoat.
The sky darts through you like blue rain,
And the grey rain drips on your flanks
And loves you.
And I have seen the moon
Slip his silver penny into your pocket
As you straightened your hair;
And the white mist curling and hesitating
Like a bashful lover about your knees.

tree


I know you, poplar;
I have watched you since I was ten.
But if you had a little real love,
A little strength,
You would leave your nonchalant idle lovers
And go walking down the white road
Behind the waggoners.

treeanthropomorphismroadpedestrian


There are beautiful beeches down beyond the hill.
Will you always stand there shivering?