Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
My Lady Is Compared to a Young TreeVachel Lindsay
From “Whimseys”
W
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.