An old tree hangs over our dirt driveway so that it brushes our car as we drive past. Last year,our first year in this country house, I admired its blooming. This year the gardener says it isleaning because some of its roots have worn away.wet apple blossomson the dark brancheson the dark earth
The Winters are so short --I'm hardly justifiedIn sending all the Birds away --And moving into Pod --Myself -- for scarcely settled --The Phoebes have begun --And then -- it's time to strike my Tent --And open House -- again --It's mostly, interruptions --My Summer -- is despoiled --Because there was a Winter -- once --And al the Cattle -- starved --And so there was a Deluge --And swept the World away --But Ararat's a Legend -- now --
Growth of Man -- like Growth of Nature --Gravitates within --Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it --Bit it stir -- alone --Each -- its difficult IdealMust achieve -- Itself --Through the solitary prowessOf a Silent Life --Effort -- is the sole condition --Patience of Itself --Patience of opposing forces --And intact Belief --Looking on -- is the DepartmentOf its Audience --But Transaction -- is assistedBy no Countenance --