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If Still Your Orchards Bear

Rising moon, February 10, 2017

If Still Your Orchards Bear

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

Brother, that breathe the August air
  Ten thousand years from now,
And smell --- if still your orchards bear
  Tart apples on the bough ---
The early windfall under the tree,
  And see the red fruit shine,
I cannot think your thoughts will be
  Much different from mine.

Should at that moment the full moon
  Step forth upon the hill,
And memories hard to bear,
  By moonlight harder still,

Form in the shadows of the trees, ---
  Things that you could not spare
And live, or so you thought, yet these
  Are gone, and you still there,

A man no longer what he was,
  Nor yet the thing he'd planned,
The chilly apple from the grass
  Warmed by your living hand ---

I think you will have need of tears;
  I think they will not flow;
Supposing in ten thousand years
  Men ache, as they do now.


  1. Henry wrote:

    Thank you for the poem above
    I used to visit my granddads orchard (now a hi tech company) and remember back the smells of young apples, and his hard work…

    Monday, February 13, 2017 at 12:40 am | Permalink
  2. DCS wrote:

    Comments section on this interface make the following poem look very ugly. Look up a more attractive presentation of it. But here it is, what I consider the Unofficial Poem of Acorn Abbey:

    Wallace Stevens


    The house was quiet and the world was calm.

    The reader became the book; and summer night

    Was like the conscious being of the book.

    The house was quiet and the world was calm.

    The words were spoken as if there was no book,

    Except that the reader leaned above the page,

    Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be

    The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom

    The summer night is like a perfection of thought.

    The house was quiet because it had to be.

    The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:

    The access of perfection to the page.

    And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,

    In which there is no other meaning, itself

    Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself

    Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

    Tuesday, February 14, 2017 at 9:15 pm | Permalink
  3. DCS wrote:

    David, this photo came out so beautiful. I was very attuned to that full moon. More to the point, I can see a 20 X 20 print framed simply but handsomely. I’ve always fretted that there is not enough artwork on the walls at the Abbey. Maybe you can start producing your own!


    Thursday, February 16, 2017 at 9:28 pm | Permalink

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