1 You are like the stem Of a young beech-tree, Straight and swaying, Breaking out in golden leaves. 5 Your walk is like the blowing of a beech-tree On a hill. Your voice is like leaves Softly struck upon by a South wind. Your shadow is no shadow, but a scattered sunshine; 10 And at night you pull the sky down to you And hood yourself in stars. But I am like a great oak under a cloudy sky, Watching a stripling beech grow up at my feet.
Source: Exploring Poetry, Gale, 1997.