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.
I drink the sunshine showered past her lips
As roses drain the dewdrop as it drips.
The ripest peach is highest on the tree,
And so mine eyes gaze upward eagerly.
Why -- why do I not turn away in wrath
And pluck some heart here hanging in my path? --
Love's lower boughs bend with them -- but, ah me!
The ripest peach is highest on the tree!
James Whitcomb Riley's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (The Ripest Peach by James Whitcomb Riley )
- With love at once, hasmukh amathalal
- Through A Puppet's Eyes (2), Dilantha Gunawardana
- Illusion perpetuates., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Love inspired meetings inspire, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Autumn, Deborah Kelley
- Fear of God?, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Keep On Groovin', Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Benefits For Them Do Not Exist, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Come close, hasmukh amathalal
- Cows caught, gajanan mishra
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(22 March 1941 -)