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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