The Ripest Peach in  General   

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!

By James Whitcomb Riley

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by James Whitcomb Riley:

• A Barefoot Boy
• A Life-Lesson
• A Noon Interval
• A Parting Guest
• A Passing Hail
• A Song of the Road
• A Summer Afternoon
• Almost Beyond Endurance
• At Broad Ripple
• Granny
• Knee-Deep in June
• Liberty
• Nine Little Goblins
• Orlie Wilde
• Our Hired Girl
• The Bumblebee
• The Harper
• The Merman
• The Old Guitar
• The Old Times Were the Best
• The Raggedy Man
• The Rapture of the Year
• The Ripest Peach
• The Rival
• The Song of Yesterday
• The Willow
• There Was a Cherry-Tree
• To a Boy Whistling
• Unless
• We to Sigh Instead of Sing
• Wet-weather Talk
• When the Frost is on the Punkin
• Who Bides His Time
• Ylladmar