William+Carlos+Williams

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The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends upon

a red wheel barrow

glazed with rain water

beside the white chickens.

The Locust Tree in Flower
Among of green

stiff old bright

broken branch come

white sweet May

again

The Great Figure
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red firetruck moving tense unheeded to gong clangs siren howls and wheels rumbling through the dark city.

This Is Just To Say
I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

To a Poor Old Woman
munching a plum on

the street a paper bag

of them in her hand

They taste good to her

They taste good

to her. They taste

good to her

You can see it by

the way she gives herself

to the one half

sucked out in her hand

Comforted

a solace of ripe plums

seeming to fill the air

They taste good to her

Spring and All
By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast-a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen

patches of standing water the scattering of tall trees

All along the road the reddish purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy stuff of bushes and small trees with dead, brown leaves under them leafless vines-

Lifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approaches-

They enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all save that they enter. All about them the cold, familiar wind-

Now the grass, tomorrow the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf One by one objects are defined- It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf

But now the stark dignity of entrance-Still, the profound change has come upon them: rooted, they grip down and begin to awaken