The May sun--whom <br />all things imitate-- <br />that glues small leaves to <br />the wooden trees <br />shone from the sky <br />through bluegauze clouds <br />upon the ground. <br />Under the leafy trees <br />where the suburban streets <br />lay crossed, <br />with houses on each corner, <br />tangled shadows had begun <br />to join <br />the roadway and the lawns. <br />With excellent precision <br />the tulip bed <br />inside the iron fence <br />upreared its gaudy <br />yellow, white and red, <br />rimmed round with grass, <br />reposedly.<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tulip-bed/
