An Apple Tree
I used to speak with an apple tree—
She was ready to please.
It was time for her fruits to be
Eaten in Thanksgiving.
Her fruits were largely fresh
And not penetrated by any worm.
It was time for the world to mesh
Throughout her juices, turn by turn.
I invited her to join my family—
To forget about nature's plea.
Yet she couldn't resist that calling—
She denied me.
The crowds gathered in distress
About how I rejected the fruit they yearned
"I cut that tree down, " I confessed.
"And oh—she burned and burned! "
Edwin Cordero's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (An Apple Tree by Edwin Cordero )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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