The Comrades Poems Old & New: By William Canton |
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Apple-Bloom and Apple |
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 | The Comrades |  |
80
Apple-Bloom and Apple
When little Osy, two years old,
Once saw the Spring sun dapple
The apple-bloom with blurs of gold,
She asked me for an apple.
Once saw the Spring sun dapple
The apple-bloom with blurs of gold,
She asked me for an apple.
“There are no apples, darling, yet;
The bloom's still white and rosy;
Wait till the harvest, then you'll get—”
“I tannot wait,” said Osy.
The bloom's still white and rosy;
Wait till the harvest, then you'll get—”
“I tannot wait,” said Osy.
I told her of the changing year,
The nipping frost, the raw gust,
The clement rain, the sunny cheer,
From April on the August.
The nipping frost, the raw gust,
The clement rain, the sunny cheer,
From April on the August.
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“So wait till Autumn paints them red,
And makes them sweet for eating!”
“No, shake them—shake them down!” she said,
With great blue eyes entreating.
And makes them sweet for eating!”
“No, shake them—shake them down!” she said,
With great blue eyes entreating.
I can't resist a mouth that pouts
And trembles, ripe for crying;
I cannot bear the first sad doubts
In large eyes so relying.
And trembles, ripe for crying;
I cannot bear the first sad doubts
In large eyes so relying.
I shook the trunk; the branches snowed
Till all the grass was whitened;
The blue jay darted down the road,
And screamed that he was frightened.
Till all the grass was whitened;
The blue jay darted down the road,
And screamed that he was frightened.
Of course I shook and shook in vain,
And Osy, standing under,
Laughed and shrugged off the blossomy rain,
Till glee was changed to wonder;
And Osy, standing under,
Laughed and shrugged off the blossomy rain,
Till glee was changed to wonder;
And wonder turned to pain and doubt;
Her eyes grew full and pleading;
Her quivering lips began to pout;
Her fists were closed for kneading;
Her eyes grew full and pleading;
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Her fists were closed for kneading;
And then there rose a long sharp cry,
As if her heart were breaking:—
“You see, my darling child,” said I,
“Apples don't grow with shaking.”
As if her heart were breaking:—
“You see, my darling child,” said I,
“Apples don't grow with shaking.”
One day when all the apple-tree
With fruit was bowed and ruddy,
Osy, with dolly on her knee,
Sat in a child's brown study.
With fruit was bowed and ruddy,
Osy, with dolly on her knee,
Sat in a child's brown study.
The west wind came with pleasant sound,
And as the leaves were turning,
An apple tumbled to the ground,
And lay there plump and burning.
And as the leaves were turning,
An apple tumbled to the ground,
And lay there plump and burning.
And Osy's face grew bright and glad,
From her dim day-dream waking—
A touch had given what could be had
Not for a world of shaking.
From her dim day-dream waking—
A touch had given what could be had
Not for a world of shaking.
| The Comrades | |