I KNOW that I shall run away Before the years go by To find a lonely kitchen And bake an apple pie. A blue and emerald morning, A mockingbird's clear trill, A kitchen with white curtains, And tulips on the sill! There I shall pare red apples And sprinkle on each slice A snowy drift of sugar And a little whiff of spice. I'll dot the top with butter Dewy yellow from cool crocks, And the fragrant smell of baking Will outscent the four-o'clocks. And folk who call me foolish Will pass and envy me, And stop and sniff about a bit, And ask themselves to tea! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH DESTINY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ESTRANGEMENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LINES ON CARMEN SYLVA by EMMA LAZARUS GUNS AS KEYS: AND THE GREAT GATE SWINGS by AMY LOWELL THE MIDDLETON PLACE by AMY LOWELL |