Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE AWAKENING OF THE TREES, by WILLIAM ROSE BENET Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: First, when all the boughs, still heavy-laden, swished and rattled Last Line: "we knew it all -- we knew it all amany months ago!" Subject(s): Trees | ||||||||
First, when all the boughs, still heavy-laden, swished and rattled In the smothered, sighing forest where the sleet and snowfall battled, Where by day the crow croaked only And by night the moon blinked wanly, Even there the rumor traveled and the deep-bound root-elves tattled. "Change evolving!" so they said. "Riddles solving!" In the dead And dungeoned deeps of earth we are questioning ourselves. We are answering, 'Rebirth!' We are forming, we are swarming, we are climbing!" said the elves. And the larch unto the maple, and the chestnut to the beech In their beck'ning, bowing language passed the secret each to each, Passed the whispered, thrilling message Till they thrilled again with presage Of the wizard wonders pending and, in low, unending speech, "Bonds are breaking!" said the trees. "Something waking! Lo, a breeze And a bird-chirp of last year. ...Is it that that shall befall, Or mere memory we hear? We are trembling, we are wondering and waiting!" said they all. And old Winter, who had brooded on the autumn groves denuded, And, with dotard kindness shining, laid his cloak for their attire, Felt a sudden stir of fire Run and ripple o'er the land, (Warming life or kindling fire?) Which he did not understand; But it irked the age-chilled sire In a way he could not stand. So he rose from long reclining And he gathered up his raiment -- All his drifted white attire -- And he stopped not for repayment, But he fled on winds loud whining, winging Northward in his ire. Could it be? The sun came singing down the hills with breezy weather; All the scents of April bringing, all the birds of April winging, All the showers of April flinging -- shower and shine and song together! Could it be? Could it be? How they babbled, tree to tree, How they loosed their pent garrulity and rustled, tree to tree -- In what lively conversation, in what wordy jubilation Did they babble, did they chatter, did they gossip, tree to tree! 'We must dress us, we must dress us! We are most unkempt and frowsy, For we cared not in the winter -- in the winter dull and drowsy! But the birds, our little gallants, On our branches twit and balance. We must blossom forth in daintiness, no longer drab and drowsy!' And daintily, oh daintily, from morning-time to twilight, They prinked them in the sunlight, they blossomed in that shy light With blossoms white and virginal, with blossoms pink and saucy, With leafy fillets garlanded and streamers green and mossy. With violets for their slipper-bows and sunlight for adorning They blossomed forth, each one of them, to greet the April morning! And the little sap-elves chuckled, 'Mid the bloom swayed to and fro, " 'Tis a most ecstatic morning, but we knew it long ago -- We knew it all -- we knew it all amany months ago!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROBLEM OF DESCRIBING TREES by ROBERT HASS THE GREEN CHRIST by ANDREW HUDGINS MIDNIGHT EDEN by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN REFLECTION OF THE WOOD by LEONIE ADAMS THE LIFE OF TREES by DORIANNE LAUX THE FALCONER OF GOD by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |
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