Poems (Tynan)/Poplar
POPLAR
The blinding sky 's unkind, The day has dust and glare, The poplar keeps the wind In her cage of light and air, Makes of her leaves a snare To keep the wind confined; All in the breathless glare The poplar holds the wind.
O cool and beautiful Her leaves of silver-gray Hang in the wind so cool In the blind and breathless day, Turn in the wind at play, Fresh as a little pool That in the forest gray Holds silver fins and cool.
All other trees are still, The oak, the elm, and the beech,But the poplar hath her fill Of soft and gracious speech. The winds are out of reach Beyond the sea and the hill For the oak, and elm, and beech, But the poplar hath her fill.