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Editor's Selection of Poems
An Apple-Gathering

by Christina Rossetti

I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple tree
    And wore them all that evening in my hair:
Then in due season when I went to see
    I found no apples there.
With dangling basket all along the grass                     
    As I had come I went the selfsame track:
My neighbours mocked me while they saw me pass
    So empty-handed back.

Lilian and Lilias smiled in trudging by,
   Their heaped-up basket teazed me like a jeer;              
Sweet-voiced they sang beneath the sunset sky,
   Their mother's home was near.

Plump Gertrude passed me with her basket full,
   A stronger hand than hers helped it along;
A voice talked with her thro' the shadows cool                
   More sweet to me than song.

Ah Willie, Willie, was my love less worth
   Than apples with their green leaves piled above?
I counted rosiest apples on the earth
   Of far less worth than love.                            

So once it was with me you stooped to talk
   Laughing and listening in this very lane:
To think that by this way we used to walk
   We shall not walk again!

I let my neighbours pass me, ones and twos                  
   And groups; the latest said the night grew chill,
And hastened: but I loitered, while the dews
   Fell fast I loitered still.
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