Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE OLD APPLE-TREE, by ANN S. STEPHENS First Line: I am thinking of the homestead Last Line: Reverberate on earth. Alternate Author Name(s): Wintherbotham, Ann Subject(s): Apple Trees; Trees | ||||||||
I AM thinking of the homestead With its low and sloping roof; And the maple boughs that shadow'd it With a green and leafy woof; I am thinking of the lilac trees That shook their purple plumes, And, when the sash was open, Shed fragrance through our rooms. I am thinking of the rivulet, With its cool and silvery flow, Of the old gray rock that shadow'd it, And the peppermint below. I am not sad or sorrowful, But memories will come; So leave me to my solitude, And let me think of home. There was not around my birthplace A thicket or a flower But childish game, or friendly face, Has given it a power To haunt me in my after life, And be with me again, A sweet and pleasant memory, Of mingled joy and pain. But the old and knotted apple-tree, That stood beneath the hill, My heart can never turn to it, But with a pleasant thrill. Oh, what a dreamy life I led Beneath its old green shade, Where the daisies and the buttercups A pleasant carpet made! 'Twas a rough old tree in spring-time, When, with a blustering sound, The wind came hoarsely sweeping Along the frosty ground. But when there rose a rivalry 'Tween clouds and pleasant weather, Till the sunshine and the rain-drops Came laughing down together; That patriarch old apple-tree Enjoy'd the lovely strife; The sap sprang lightly through its veins, And circled into life; A cloud of pale and tender buds Burst o'er each rugged bough, And amid their starting verdure The robins made their vow. That tree was very beautiful When all the leaves were green, And rosy buds lay opening Amid their tender sheen; When the bright translucent dewdrops Shed blossoms as they fell, And melted in their fragrance, Like music in a shell. It was greenest in the summer-time, When cheerful sunlight wove, Amid its thrifty leafiness, A warm and glowing love; When swelling fruit blush'd ruddily To summer's balmy breath, And the laden boughs droop'd heavily To the green sward underneath. 'T was brightest in a rainy day, When all the purple west Was piled with fleecy storm-clouds, That never seem'd at rest; When a cool and lulling melody Fell from the dripping eaves, And soft warm drops came pattering Upon the restless leaves. But, oh, the scene was glorious When clouds were lightly riven, And there, above my valley home, Came out the bow of heaven; And, in its fitful brilliancy Hung quivering on high, Like a jewell'd arch of paradise Reflected through the sky. I am thinking of the footpath My constant visits made, Between the dear old homestead And that leafy apple shade; Where the flow of distant waters Came with a tinkling sound, Like the revels of a fairy band, Beneath the fragrant ground. I haunted it at even-tide, And dreamily would lie And watch the crimson twilight Come stealing o'er the sky. 'T was sweet to see its dying gold Wake up the dusky leaves, To hear the swallows twittering Beneath the distant eaves. I have listen'd to the music, A low sweet minstrelsy, Breathed by a lonely night-bird That haunted that old tree, Till my heart has swell'd with feelings For which it had no name, A yearning love for poesy, A thirsting after fame. I have gazed up through the foliage With dim and tearful eyes, And with a holy reverence Dwelt on the changing skies, Till the burning stars were peopled With forms of spirit-birth, And I've almost heard their harp-strings Reverberate on earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROBLEM OF DESCRIBING TREES by ROBERT HASS THE GREEN CHRIST by ANDREW HUDGINS MIDNIGHT EDEN by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN REFLECTION OF THE WOOD by LEONIE ADAMS THE LIFE OF TREES by DORIANNE LAUX |
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