James Whitcomb Riley

(7 October 1849 - 22 July 1916 / Greenfield, Indiana)

Poems of James Whitcomb Riley

The Ripest Peach

The ripest peach is highest on the tree --
And so her love, beyond the reach of me,
Is dearest in my sight. Sweet breezes, bow
Her heart down to me where I worship now!

She looms aloft where every eye may see
The ripest peach is highest on the tree.
Such fruitage as her love I know, alas!
I may not reach here from the orchard grass.

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