H. D.

Keeper of Orchards

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,

“Thou hast flayed us with thy 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 thee an offering;

Do thou, alone unbeautiful

(Son of the god),

Spare us from loveliness.

The fallen hazel-nuts,

Stripped late of their green sheaths,

The grapes, red-purple,

Their berries

Dripping with wine,

Pomegranates already broken,

And shrunken figs,

And quinces untouched,

I bring thee as offering.