Classic Poem

Elm-trees
And the leaf the boy in me hated
Long ago—
Rough and sandy.

Poplars
And their leaves,
Tender, smooth to the fingers,
And a secret in their smell
I have forgotten.

Oaks
And forest glades;
Heart aching with wonder, fear:
Their bitter mast.

Willows
And the scented beetle
We put in our handkerchiefs;
And the roots of one that spread into a river:
Nakedness, water and joy.

Hawthorn,
White and odorous with blossom,
Framing the quiet fields
And swaying flowers and grasses
And the hum of bees.

Chestnuts,
Apples and pears,
Which we pillaged in the autumn
Of their fruit.

Oh, these are the things that are with me now,
In the town;
And I am grateful
For this minute of my manhood.