The May sun-whom 
all things imitate- 
that glues small leaves to 
the wooden trees 
shone from the sky 
through bluegauze clouds 
upon the ground. 
Under the leafy trees 
where the suburban streets 
lay crossed, 
with houses on each corner, 
tangled shadows had begun 
to join 
the roadway and the lawns. 
With excellent precision 
the tulip bed 
inside the iron fence 
upreared its gaudy 
yellow, white and red, 
rimmed round with grass, 
reposedly.
The Tulip Bed
written byWilliam Carlos Williams
© William Carlos Williams





