Sweet, And delicate, And rare, At the end Of a wind-blown fragrant bough, The apple swings! If I, Who fly no more, Had wings! Or if My wizardry Knew how! I'd wing To where that sweetness swings, -- At the end of the bough! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TUFT OF FLOWERS by ROBERT FROST RIVALRY IN LOVE by WILLIAM WALSH (1663-1707) SPLENDID ISOLATION; A MORAL FROM LEXINTON, 1775 by KATHARINE LEE BATES THREE WOMEN: SYLVIA by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR THE MEANING OF THE WORD 'WRATH' by JOHN BYROM TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. SPENDING THE NIGHT ALONE by EDWARD CARPENTER COMRADERY by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN |