The Willow

 Who shall sing a simple ditty about the Willow, 
Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray 
That dandles high the dainty bird that flutters there to trill a 
Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May.


Bravest, too, of all the trees! -- none to match your daring,-- 
First of greens to greet the Spring and lead in leafy sheen;-- 
Aye, and you're the last -- almost into winter wearing 
Still the leaf of loyalty -- still the badge of green.


Ah, my lovely willow! --let the waters lilt your graces,-- 
They alone with limped kisses lave your leaves above, 
Flashing back your silvan beauty, and in shady places 
Peering up with glimmering pebbles, like the eyes of love.

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