  I TWINE you, little trellis, close and fond, And swing in wistful threads above, beyond, For air and space to blossom. Be it so. Ah me! I love you, but the plant must grow. I quiver with the call of summer heat, With all the wild sap stirring at my feet. My quiet trellis, impotent to know The earth and sun command me: I must grow. You cannot share my ardent life apart, Nor feel the upward straining of my heart. In every vein the urging currents flow, Leaf after leaf unfolds: the plant must grow. |
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