Conrad Siever

Not inwards that wasted garden

Where bodies are drawn into grass

That feeds no flocks, as well as into evergreens

That behavior no fruit —

There where along the shaded walks

Vain sighs are heard,

And vainer dreams are dreamed

Of unopen communion amongst departed souls —

But hither
under the apple tree tree

I loved as well as watched as well as pruned

With gnarled hands

In the long, long years;

Here nether the roots of this northern-spy

To deed inwards the chemical pith modify as well as circle of life,

Into the reason as well as into the flesh of the tree,

And into the living epitaphs

Of redder apples!

Edward Lee Masters

Spoon River Anthology

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