| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Wild Orchard | | By William Carlos Williams |
| | | IT is a broken country, | |
| the rugged land is | |
| green from end to end; | |
| the autumn has not come. | |
| |
| Embanked above the orchard | 5 |
| the hillside is a wall | |
| of motionless green trees, | |
| the grass is green and red. | |
| |
| Five days the bare sky | |
| has stood there day and night. | 10 |
| No bird, no sound. | |
| Between the trees | |
| |
| stillness | |
| and the early morning light. | |
| The apple trees | 15 |
| are laden down with fruit. | |
| |
| Among blue leaves | |
| the apples green and red | |
| upon one tree stand out | |
| most enshrined. | 20 |
| |
| Still, ripe, heavy, | |
| spherical and close, | |
| they mark the hillside. | |
| It is a formal grandeur, | |
| |
| a stateliness, | 25 |
| a signal of finality | |
| and perfect ease. | |
| Among the savage | |
| |
| aristocracy of rocks | |
| one, risen as a tree, | 30 |
| has turned | |
| from his repose. | | | | |
|
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