 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
The Barberry Bush
The bush which bears most briars, and bitter fruit,Wait till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit,
And thou may'st find, e'en there, a homely bread.
Upon the hills of Salem, scattered wide,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring;
And straggling down upon the turnpike's side,
Their ripened bunches to your hand they bring.
I've plucked them oft in boyhood's early hour,
What then I gave such name, and thought it true;
But now I know, that other fruit, as sour,
Grows on what now thou callest Me, and You;
Yet, wilt thou wait the Autumn that I see,
'Twill sweeter taste than these red berries be.
Poem No. 475; fall 1839
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