Your Laurel Hedge, with its broad leaves, Keeps fresh and green from year to year; While that poor Wayside, Mongrel hedge, In Winter time goes thin and bare. But when October's in his prime, How beautiful that Mongrel grows — Where Blackberry, Thorn and other leaves Can make a hundred shining hues! In singles, twins, and triplets too, In bunch and cluster, high and low, I see his fruits in heavy folds, Or fluttering lightly to and fro. The Apple with her beauty-moles, The beady Currant, glassy-eyed; The golden Corn, all naked there, Without a leaf on either side. The nippled Pear and misty Plum, The yellow Quince and Cherry red; The crimson Strawberry, full of dimples, Now lying so low in her bed. Let no man touch this Mongrel now, Nor dare to pick his fruit, for fear That Wizard turns his gorgeous feast To shrivelled leaves, all limp and sere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOTHER WATCH by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST ABYSS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS A WAYFARING SONG by HENRY VAN DYKE RETURN by KENNETH SLADE ALLING TO MY TOTEM by HENRY CHARLES BEECHING FEATHERSTONHAUGH by BARCROFT HENRY BOAKE |