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Low
Tide on Grand Pré: A Book of Lyrics
by
Bliss Carman
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IN
APPLE TIME
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THE
apple harvest days are here,
The boding apple harvest
days,
And down the flaming
valley ways,
The foresters of time draw near,
Through leagues of bloom I went with Spring,
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To
call you on the slopes of morn,
Where in imperious
song is borne
The wild heart of the goldenwing.
I roamed through alien summer lands,
I sought your beauty
near and far;
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10 |
To-day,
where russet shadows are,
I hold your face between my hands.
On runnels dark by slopes of fern,
The hazy undern
sleeps in sun.
Remembrance and
desire, undone,
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15 |
From
old regret to dreams return.
The apple harvest time is here,
The tender apple
harvest time;
A sheltering calm,
unknown at prime,
Settles upon the brooding year.
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20 |
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