ONE by one, like leaves from a tree, All my faiths have forsaken me; But the stars above my head Burn in white and delicate red, And beneath my feet the earth Brings the sturdy grass to birth. I who was content to be But a silken-singing tree, But a rustle of delight In the wistful heart of night-- I have lost the leaves that knew Touch of rain and weight of dew. Blinded by a leafy crown I looked neither up nor down-- But the little leaves that die Have left me room to see the sky; Now for the first time I know Stars above and earth below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ELEPHANT by HILAIRE BELLOC NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH I PAY MY DEBT FOR LAFAYETTE AND ROCHAMBEAU' by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO WHISTLER, AMERICAN; ON LOAN EXHIBIT OF PAINTINGS AT TATE GALLERY by EZRA POUND A GIRL'S THOUGHTS by ISAAC ROSENBERG HEMLOCK AND CEDAR by CARL SANDBURG |