Down a road of swirling fogs
And through screens of rural grey,
Life moves onward blindly,
Complete in disarray.
No ferns or mosses, No seed
To heal men’s fruitless losses.
A black and barren land it seems
Will fill the voids of my dreams.
Until merging into view
From fogs and churning rains,
Visions of a Willow Tree
Lend branches down, onto me.
Her trunk stands mellow, and graciously
Flowing by is the spine
Of her drooping leaves.
Up her bark I then twine to climb,
To reach her timbered peak.
Hanging, climbing, leaping, soaring,
And from cleft to branch I rise,
Grasping green and golden skies;
Above that barren land
And it’s sea of rolling mist.
Sprays of light dance round me,
As the Sun shines down his gift.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Leap by Paul Henry )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
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- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- A Child's Christmas in Wales, Dylan Thomas
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Death, Rainer Maria Rilke
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