Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OUR OLD VERMONT APPLE POLE, by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY

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OUR OLD VERMONT APPLE POLE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: As on along through life I go
Last Line: A picture of our apple pole.
Subject(s): Apple Trees; Fruit; Harvest; Trees; Vermont

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.

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