When winter-time grows weary, I lift my eyes on high And see the black trees standing, stripped clear against the sky; They stand there very silent, with the cold flushed sky behind, The little twigs flare beautiful and restful and kind; Clear-cut and certain they rise, with summer past, For all that trees can ever learn they know now, at last; Slim and black and wonderful, with all unrest gone by, The stripped tree-boughs comfort me, drawn clear against the sky.
This poem is in the public domain.
About this Poem
“Winter Branches” originally appeared in Cross-Currents (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1921).
Margaret Widdemer was born in Doylestown, Pennsylvania in 1884. In 1919, she won the Pulitzer Prize, then known as the Columbia University Prize, for her 1919 collection The Old Road to Paradise. She died in 1978.
Date Published: 2017-12-02
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/winter-branches