LIKE the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough, A-top on the topmost twig,-- which the pluckers forgot, somehow,-- Forgot it not, nay, but got it not, for none could get it till now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RETURN (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SMOTHERED FIRES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK by AMY LOWELL SONG FOR A VIOLA D'AMORE by AMY LOWELL DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |