The leaves have turned gold on the vibrant pear trees that stand proudly in their autumn glory. In the distance, the sun’s rays fall on a small farmhouse. Set against the grayness of dramatic cloud formation, this dream orchard is a timeless classic image that reminds us of the beauty of the countryside.
Inspirational Poems
Orchard
I SAW the first pear
As it fell—
The honey-seeking, golden-banded,
The yellow swarm
Was not more fleet than I,
(Spare us from loveliness)
And I fell prostrate
Crying:
You have flayed us
With your blossoms,
Spare us the beauty
Of fruit-trees.
The honey-seeking
Paused not,
The air thundered their song,
And I alone was prostrate.
O rough-hewn
God of the orchard,
I bring you an offering—
Do you, alone unbeautiful,
Son of the god,
Spare us from loveliness:
These fallen hazel-nuts,
Stripped late of their green sheaths,
Grapes, red-purple,
Their berries
Dripping with wine,
Pomegranates already broken,
And shrunken figs
And quinces untouched,
I bring you as offering.
By Hilda Doolittle (H. D.) (1886–1961)
Wind Song
Long ago I learned how to sleep,
In an old apple orchard where the wind swept by counting its money and throwing it away,
In a wind-gaunt orchard where the limbs forked out and listened or never listened at all,
In a passel of trees where the branches trapped the wind into whistling, “Who, who are you?”
I slept with my head in an elbow on a summer afternoon and there I took a sleep lesson.
There I went away saying: I know why they sleep, I know how they trap the tricky winds.
Long ago I learned how to listen to the singing wind and how to forget and how to hear the deep whine,
Slapping and lapsing under the day blue and the night stars:
Who, who are you?
Who can ever forget listening to the wind go by
counting its money and throwing it away?
Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Smoke and Steel. 1922.
The Apple Orchard
A sunny afternoon, with blanket spread,
Beneath some apple trees, with ample shade,
We'd sit with tray of tea and gingerbread,
Scones with jam, and these were all homemade.
Apples hung above us, ripe and red,
So colourful, they somehow set the scene.
Sampling strawberry jam on sliced shortbread,
We'd lay and watch the leaves, with sun between.
Peaceful lazy days were these, and free,
Whiling away hours, with paint and book,
Our orchard, where under a favourite tree,
We'd relish Peter Pan and Captain Hook.
Those rosy apples, that we'd all comsume,
And savour juicy flesh so soft and sweet,
Eating them until we had no more room,
Those halcyon days were to us such a treat.
Dappled sunshine sparkled through the boughs,
And danced on, with a gentle pleasing sway,
Oh What I would give to again just browse,
In that apple orchard, for just, one more day.
By :Ernestine Northover