You are like the stem <br />Of a young beech-tree, <br />Straight and swaying, <br />Breaking out in golden leaves. <br />Your walk is like the blowing of a beech-tree <br />On a hill. <br />Your voice is like leaves <br />Softly struck upon by a South wind. <br />Your shadow is no shadow, but a scattered sunshine; <br />And at night you pull the sky down to you <br />And hood yourself in stars. <br /> <br />But I am like a great oak under a cloudy sky, <br />Watching a stripling beech grow up at my feet.<br /><br />Amy Lowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/generations/
