The Pear Tree
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
In this squalid, dirty dooryard, Where the chickens scratch and run, White, incredible, the pear tree Stands apart and takes the sun, Mindful of the eyes upon it, Vain of its new holiness, Like the waste-man’s little daughter In her first communion dress.
0
Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add The Pear Tree to your own personal library.
Add The Pear Tree to your own personal library.
Return to the Edna St. Vincent Millay Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; The Penitent
