So old, so tiny, it its bowl of blue, Spreading its green and twisted branches, While underneath its gnarled and writhing trunk Gleams a jewel of a stone. Often visitors to our garden say: "How strange, how lovely is the tree!" Yet, is it happy, do you think, With roots so cramped And shoots so pinched, Far, far away from the Land Of a Million Swords! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DIPPOLD THE OPTICIAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE DOVE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT TOO SOON by ROBERT HERRICK MINSTREL OF THE SUN by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER OF SUCH AS THESE by MARION L. BERTRAND PECKING by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |