Evening Poetry, July 12

The Willows

by Walter Prichard Eaton

By the little river,

Still and deep and brown,

Grow the graceful willows,

Gently dipping down.

Dipping down and brushing

Everything that floats–

Leaves and logs and fishes,

And the passing boats.

Were they water maidens

In the long ago,

That they lean out sadly

Looking down below?

In the misty twilight

You can see their hair,

Weeping water maidens

That were once so fair.

You can find this poem in the collection Favorite Poems Old and New.

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