How calmly does the olive branchObserve the sky begin to blanchWithout a cry, without a prayerWith no betrayal of despairSome time while light obscures the treeThe zenith of its life will beGone past foreverAnd from thenceA second history will commenceA chronicle no longer goldA bargaining with mist and moldAnd finally the broken stemThe plummeting to earth, and thenAn intercourse not well designedFor beings of a golden kindWhose native green must arch aboveThe earth's obscene corrupting loveAnd still the ripe fruit and the branchObserve the sky begin to blanchWithout a cry, without a prayerWith no betrayal of despairOh courage! Could you not as wellSelect a second place to dwellNot only in that golden treeBut in the frightened heart of me?
- Tennessee Williams, from "The Night of the Iguana".