You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me
1819-1892
You lingering sparse leaves of me on winter-nearing boughs,
And I some well-shorn tree of field or orchard-row;
You tokens diminute and lorn--(not now the flush of May, or July
clover-bloom--no grain of August now;)
You pallid banner-staves--you pennants valueless--you overstay'd of time,
Yet my soul-dearest leaves confirming all the rest,
The faithfulest--hardiest--last.
DayPoems Poem No. 2215
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/2215.html">You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me by Walt Whitman</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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