Spoon River Anthology
Edgar Lee Masters
Hare Drummer << --- >> Doc Hill
Conrad Siever
NOT in that wasted garden
Where bodies are drawn into grass
That feeds no flocks, and into evergreens
That bear no fruit --
There where along the shaded walks
Vain sighs are heard,
And vainer dreams are dreamed
Of close communion with departed souls --
But here under the apple tree
I loved and watched and pruned
With gnarled hands
In the long, long hears;
Here under the roots of this northern-spy
To move in the chemic hange and circle of life,
Into the soil and into the flesh of the tree,
And into the living epitaphs
Of redder apples!
Source: Project Gutenberg