From Sandy Pappas UMASS, MFA 1974 infrequent participant (forgive me the off
topic please)
I've been looking for a tree poem and found this favorite instead:
XLII
I was a boy when I left home.
I come back an old man.
I think I remember the country dialect,
But my hair has turned white since I spoke it.
Children stare at me.
Nobody understands me.
They look at me and laugh, and say,
"Where do you come from, Milord?"
HO CH'E CH'ANG
-----Original Message-----
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Sun, Dec 20, 2009 7:35 am
Subject: Re: [ENTS] Re: good winter tree poem
Larry,
Did you know that Richard Wilbur is a Massachusetts poet who live not far
from Monica and me. I once planned to name a tree for him on the request of
others. His tree was to be one of the poets pines on the Bryant Homestead. But
someone who knows him and sees him often said that Wilbur wouldn't not want a
tree named for him at this point.
The poets pines forms a section of the Bryant Pines. We have the following
named pines (not all poets):
Bryant Pine
Robert Frost Pine
Emily Dickinson Pine
Carl Sandburg Pine
John Marshall Pine
Ralph Waldo Emerson Pine
The pines were hit hard by an ice storm a year ago December. I have been
tempted to write a poem about the event and its impact. Not sure I can do
justice to such an assignment, but I may still try.
BTW, I have visited the Emily Dickinson estate in Amherst several times and
measured most of the notable trees there. The Emily Dickinson Tulip Poplar is
the most impressive tree. I plan to revisit it later in the winter and
remeasure it. I can't recall its girth exactly. I think about 11 feet. Its
height is between 125 and 126, or about 3 years ago.
Bob
----- Original Message -----
From: "Larry" <[email protected]>
To: "ENTSTrees" <[email protected]>
Sent: Saturday, December 19, 2009 7:45:06 PM GMT -05:00 US/Canada Eastern
Subject: [ENTS] Re: good winter tree poem
Jenny, et all, I'm enjoying the poetry, so I thought that I'd post one
too! Larry
Orchard Trees, January by Richard Wilbur
It's not the case, though some might wish it so
Who from a window watch the blizzard blow
White riot through their branches vague and stark,
That they keep snug beneath their pelted bark.
They take affliction in until it jells
To crystal ice between their frozen cells,
And each of them is inwardly a vault
Of jewels rigorous and free of fault,
Unglimpsed until in May it gently bears
A sudden crop of green-pronged solitaires.
--
Eastern Native Tree Society http://www.nativetreesociety.org
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--
Eastern Native Tree Society http://www.nativetreesociety.org
Send email to [email protected]
Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/entstrees?hl=en
To unsubscribe send email to [email protected]
--
Eastern Native Tree Society http://www.nativetreesociety.org
Send email to [email protected]
Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/entstrees?hl=en
To unsubscribe send email to [email protected]
