Explore "Primrose" by William Carlos Williams on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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, forgetmenots / 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.