The Tree Of Scarlet Berries Poem by Amy Lowell
The Tree Of Scarlet Berries
The rain gullies the garden paths
And tinkles on the broad sides of grass blades.
A tree, at the end of my arm, is hazy with mist.
Even so, I can see that it has red berries,
A scarlet fruit,
Filmed over with moisture.
It seems as though the rain,
Dripping from it,
Should be tinged with colour.
I desire the berries,
But, in the mist, I only scratch my hand on the thorns.
Probably, too, they are bitter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/26/2026 9:26:02 AM # rel_20260825T124344Z_022792b
