I must tell you <br />this young tree <br />whose round and firm trunk <br />between the wet <br /> <br />pavement and the gutter <br />(where water <br />is trickling) rises <br />bodily <br /> <br />into the air with <br />one undulant <br />thrust half its height- <br />and then <br /> <br />dividing and waning <br />sending out <br />young branches on <br />all sides- <br /> <br />hung with cocoons <br />it thins <br />till nothing is left of it <br />but two <br /> <br />eccentric knotted <br />twigs <br />bending forward <br />hornlike at the top<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/young-sycamore/
