Unharvested

scent of ripeness from over a wall. And come to leave the routine road And look for what had made me stall, There sure enough was an appletree That had eased itself of its summer load, And of all but its trivial foliage free, Now breathed as light as a lady's fan. For there there had been an apple fall As complete as the apple had given man. The ground was one circle of solid red.

May something go always unharvested! May much stay out of our stated plan, Apples or something forgotten and left, So smelling their sweetness would be no theft.

There Are Roughly Zones

We sit indoors and talk o£ the cold outside. And every gust that gathers strength and heaves Is a threat to the house. But the house has long been tried.

We think of the tree. If it never again has leaves, We'll know, we say, that this was the night it died. It is very far north, we admit, to have brought the peach.

What comes over a man, is it soul or mind— That to no limits and bounds he can stay confined? You would say his ambition was to extend the reach Clear to the Arctic of every living kind. Why is his nature forever so hard to teach That though there is no fixed line between wrong and right,

There are roughly zones whose laws must be obeyed. There is nothing much we can do for the tree tonight, But we can't help feeling more than a little betrayed That the northwest wind should rise to such a height Just when the cold went down so many below. The tree has no leaves and may never have them again. We must wait till some months hence in the spring to know.

But if it is destined never again to grow,

It can blame this limitless trait in the hearts of men.

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