AS on along through life I go, A-meeting folks I used to know, Some feller, say, from District Three, Who used to set, perhaps, with me; Some chap from District number Nine Whose tippet cost the same as mine— It's always great to hear 'em tell How long they farmed, and Oh! how well; The corn they husked, and Oh! how quick, The apples that they used to pick; But 'fore we part I often say, In jest a nonchalantic way, "I s'pose they're using on the whole The same old sort of apple pole." And then to string along the jest I 'low that birch was 'bout the best, That elm was fair and hickory good, Or any swishy kind of wood; And don't you know that two or three Have pretty near got mad at me: They never used a pole, I guess, With any comprehensiveness; Or else they didn't peel the tip, Or kept it where the eaves would drip; Or else they rushed their work so fast They left it where they used it last; Or else, perhaps, their pole was stole, Or else they never had a pole. For, Sakes Alive! our pole will stay With me till apples pass away; The pole we stored beneath the eaves And kept from townies, toughs and thieves; Of all the things that's worth a cheer, Of all the early things that's dear, Is that betapered pole that made The highest apple feel afraid; That brought the golden Russets down As gems to grace Pomona's crown; The way it made the "Gransirs" drop You'd think, By Gosh! they'd never stop; In picking times, upon my soul, 'Twas one of us—our apple pole. To take that pole and whip a tree Was sure a harvest jubilee; The apples fell in spumey spray And lay in winrows jest like hay; We'd pick a cartful up, ker-pop, And then lay bagfuls 'long on top; If going home had been up-hill I guess we'd been a-stuck there still; If I can have as fine a wand, A pole like ours in worlds beyond, I'll pick at my eternal ease The fruit of the Hesperides, And 'grave on my celestial scroll A picture of our apple pole. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE by GEORGE DARLEY TO THE SOUTH ON ITS NEW SLAVERY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MY AUNT by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES BY THE PACIFIC OCEAN by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON by ALFRED TENNYSON SYMPHONY OF THE SOIL by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): JASON'S SOWING AND REAPING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |