White Poplar. 
293 
“ Gracing each other like the trees in Spring, 
The tufted by the tall.” 
The light, graceful appearance of these trees rustling their 
plumed heads hither and thither in the wind has been a fruitful 
source of simile to the poets, who likewise have not failed to 
notice the fine effect produced by the alternate play of light 
and shade of the leaves, as now the inside, and now the out, is 
exposed to view. 
In the “ Odyssey ” these movements are compared to women’s 
fingers when spinning: 
“Full fifty handmaids from the household train, 
Some turn the mill, or sift the golden grain; 
Some ply the loom; their busy fingers move 
Like poplar-leaves when Zephyr fans the grove.” 
Garcilasso, the Spanish poet, has a prettier conceit: 
“Each wind that breathes, gallantly here and there 
Waves the fine gold of her disordered hair, 
As a green poplar-leaf, in wanton play, 
Dances for joy at rosy break of day.” 
What Martyn said in prose, Leigh Hunt says thus in verse: 
‘ ‘ The poplar’s shoot, 
That like a feather waves from head to foot. ” 
With Barry Cornwall the more outre class of comparison is 
dropped, and he sings sweetly : 
“The greenwoods moved, and the light poplar shook 
Its silver pyramid of leaves.” 
c ■'A- 
