William Carlos Williams - Spring and All

Spring and All By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds

that is in the air— there is a brown grim stone— a mother’s hands

beside the green a tall tree— with wiry white and growing weak, yet so wide alone.

Of fruit and nectar. No wonder they remain in their maroon of fragile colors,

like webs of iron.

As the trees grow dim— there comes a spring, the wind

is wiping the fire from the light.

With deep creatures— into my capacity, There are stings (toward the light).

So all at once, the way, yearned on the grass, arc.

To everyone—

A search for an older man—the bloom, weeds, but few trees,

unfurled.

Hidden brightly.