Archives For Apples


Liberty Hyde Bailey

[ from Wind and Weather: Poems
Read the Book’s Intro ]

My last winter apple I ate today.
Shapely and stout in their modelled skins
Securely packed in my cellar bins
Two dozen good kinds of apple-spheres lay.

And today I went to my orchard trees
And picked me the first-ripe yellow fruits
That hung far out on the swinging shoots
In summer suns and the wonder-day breeze.

And thereby it was that the two years met
Deep in the heart of the ripe July
When the wheat was shocked and streams were dry;
And weather of winter stayed with me yet.

For I planted these orchard trees myself
On hillside slopes that belong to me
Where visions are wide and winds are free
That all the round year might come to my shelf.

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