Poems (Jackson)/My Strawberry

by Helen Hunt Jackson

MY STRAWBERRY.

MARVEL, fruit of fruits, I pauseTo reckon thee. I ask what causeSet free so much of red from heatsAt core of earth, and mixed such sweetsWith sour and spice: what was that strengthWhich out of darkness, length by length,Spun all thy shining thread of vine,Netting the fields in bond as thine.I see thy tendrils drink by sipsFrom grass and clover's smiling lips;I hear thy roots dig down for wells,Tapping the meadow's hidden cells; Whole generations of green things,Descended from long lines of springs, I see make room for thee to bideA quiet comrade by their side;I see the creeping peoples goMysterious journeys to and fro,Treading to right and left of thee,Doing thee homage wonderingly.I see the wild bees as they fare,Thy cups of honey drink, but spare.I mark thee bathe and bathe againIn sweet uncalendared spring rain.I watch how all May has of sunMakes haste to have thy ripeness done,While all her nights let dews escapeTo set and cool thy perfect shape.Ah, fruit of fruits, no more I pauseTo dream and seek thy hidden laws!I stretch my hand and dare to taste,In instant of delicious wasteOn single feast, all things that wentTo make the empire thou hast spent.