 |
|
|
User Rating: |
|
6.0
/10
(1
votes)
|
|
|
|
|
|
Green is the plane-tree in the square,
The other trees are brown;
They droop and pine for country air;
The plane-tree loves the town.
Here from my garret-pane, I mark
The plane-tree bud and blow,
Shed her recuperative bark,
And spread her shade below.
Among her branches, in and out,
The city breezes play;
The dun fog wraps her round about;
Above, the smoke curls grey.
Others the country take for choice,
And hold the town in scorn;
But she has listened to the voice
On city breezes borne.
Amy Levy
|
|
Read poems about / on: fog, city, tree, green, london
|
|
 |
Home
