ripe

The ends of dreaming paths; a wanton wind

Jostles the half-ripe pears, and then, unkind,

Tumbles a-slumber in a pillar rose,

But when that long awaited day

Hangs ripe in the heavens, your voyaging stay.

Be morning, O Sun! with the lark in song,

Though the tulips stand on tiptoe to hear,

So give; ripe fruit must shrivel or fall.

As you are mine, Sweetheart, give all!

And dripping them on the ground.

My heart gapes because it is ripe and over-full,

And its seeds are bursting from it.

Will rest the rushes he is wont to play.

His train in woven baskets bear ripe fruit

And weave a dance with ropes of gray acorns,

Only making it close in more densely.

The gardener picks ripe gooseberries

For the Dean's supper to-night.

Of bending sky and sudden, sweeping showers,

Till ripe and blossoming thou art a thing

To make all nature glad, thou art so gay;

By nature trees do rot when they are grown.

And plums and apples thoroughly ripe do fall,

And corn and grass are in their season mown,