'TORN from your parent bough, Poor leaf all withered now, Where go you?' 'I cannot tell. Storm-stricken is the oak-tree Where I grew, whence I fell. Changeful continually, The zephyr and hurricane Since that day bid me flee From deepest woods to the lea, From highest hills to the plain. Where the wind carries me I go without fear or grief: I go whither each one goes,-- Thither the leaf of the rose And thither the laurel-leaf.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESTRANGEMENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BRUTUS LIVES AGAIN IN BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONNET by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TROY PARK: 1. THE WARMTH OF SPRING by EDITH SITWELL |