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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Vachel Lindsay

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

My Lady Is Compared to a Young Tree

Vachel Lindsay

From “Whimseys”

WHEN I see a young tree

In its white beginning,

With white leaves

And white buds

Barely tipped with green,

In the April weather,

In the weeping sunshine—

Then I see my lady,

My democratic queen,

Standing free and equal

With the youngest woodland sapling

Swaying, singing in the wind,

Delicate and white:

Soul so near to blossom,

Fragile, strong as death;

A kiss from far-off Eden,

A flash of Judgment’s trumpet—

April’s breath.