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dr. ritchie - robert frost’s “after apple-picking” lyrics
my long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
toward heaven still
and there’s a barrel that i didn’t fill
beside it, and there may be two or three
apples i didn’t pick upon some bough
but i am done with apple-picking now
essence of winter sleep is on the night
the scent of apples: i am drowsing off
i cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
i got from looking through a pane of gl-ss
i skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
and held against the world of h–ry gr-ss
it melted, and i let it fall and break
but i was well
upon my way to sleep before it fell
and i could tell
what form my dreaming was about to take
magnified apples appear and disappear
stem end and blossom end
and every fleck of russet showing clear
my instep arch not only keeps the ache
it keeps the pressure of a ladder-round
i feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend
and i keep hearing from the cellar bin
the rumbling sound
of load on load of apples coming in
for i have had too much
of apple-picking: i am overtired
of the great harvest i myself desired
there were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch
cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall
for all
that struck the earth
no matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble
went surely to the cider-apple heap
as of no worth
one can see what will trouble
this sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is
were he not gone
the woodchuck could say whether it’s like his
long sleep, as i describe its coming on
or just some human sleep
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