Here you will find the Poem A Fruit Piece of poet James Whitcomb Riley
The afternoon of summer folds Its warm arms round the marigolds, And with its gleaming fingers, pets The watered pinks and violets That from the casement vases spill, Over the cottage window-sill, Their fragrance down the garden walks Where droop the dry-mouthed hollyhocks. How vividly the sunshine scrawls The grape-vine shadows on the walls! How like a truant swings the breeze In high boughs of the apple-trees! The slender 'free-stone' lifts aloof, Full languidly above the roof, A hoard of fruitage, stamped with gold And precious mintings manifold. High up, through curled green leaves, a pear Hangs hot with ripeness here and there. Beneath the sagging trellisings, In lush, lack-lustre clusterings, Great torpid grapes, all fattened through With moon and sunshine, shade and dew, Until their swollen girths express But forms of limp deliciousness-- Drugged to an indolence divine With heaven's own sacramental wine.
