PASTORAL
WHEN I was younger
it was plain to me
I must make something of myself.
Older now
I walk back streets
admiring the houses
of the very poor:
roof out of line with sides
the yards cluttered
with old chicken wire, ashes,
furniture gone wrong;
the fences and outhouses
built of barrel staves
and parts of boxes, all,
if I am fortunate,
smeared a bluish green
that properly weathered
pleases me best of all colors.
No one
will believe this
of vast import to the nation.
— William Carlos Williams
from The Collected Poems of W.C. Williams
© New Directions, 1991
There is a garden in every childhood,
an enchanted place
where the colors are brighter,
the air softer,
and the morning more fragrant
than ever again.
~ Elizabeth Lawrence
