William Carlos Williams

Here you will find the Poem Primrose of poet William Carlos Williams


Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! 
It is not a color. 
It is summer! 
It is the wind on a willow, 
the lap of waves, the shadow 
under a bush, a bird, a bluebird, 
three herons, a dead hawk 
rotting on a pole-- 
Clear yellow! 
It is a piece of blue paper 
in the grass or a threecluster of 
green walnuts swaying, children 
playing croquet or one boy 
fishing, a man 
swinging his pink fists 
as he walks-- 
It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots 
in the ditch, moss under 
the flange of the carrail, the 
wavy lines in split rock, a 
great oaktree-- 
It is a disinclination to be 
five red petals or a rose, it is 
a cluster of birdsbreast flowers 
on a red stem six feet high, 
four open yellow petals 
above sepals curled 
backward into reverse spikes-- 
Tufts of purple grass spot the 
green meadow and clouds the sky.