Branchy

The shrub was too branchy. It needed to be pruned so it would have a few strong shoots instead of many weak ones.

1795, William Blake, The Book of Los, Chapter II, lines 92-4, in Blake: The Complete Poems, 3rd edition, Routledge, 2007, p. 288, […] there grew / Branchy forms, organizing the Human / Into finite inflexible organs,

No branchy thicket shelter yields; / But blessed forms in whistling storms / Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

[T]he trees blew stedfastly one way, never writhing round, and scarcely tossing back their boughs once in an hour; so continuous was the strain bending their branchy heads northward— […]

Towery city and branchy between towers; / Cuckoo-echoing, bell-swarmèd, lark-charmèd, rook-racked, river-rounded; / The dapple-eared lily below thee; that country and town did / Once encounter in, here coped and poisèd powers; […]