Explore "Never May the Fruit be Plucked" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Never, never may the fruit be plucked from the bough / And gathered into barrels.
He that would eat of love must eat it where it hangs.
Though the branches bend like reeds, / Though the ripe fruit splash in the grass or wrinkle on the tree, / He that would eat of love may bear away with him / Only what his belly can hold, / Nothing in the apron, / Nothing in the pockets.
Never, never may the fruit be gathered from the bough / And harvested in barrels.
The winter of love is a cellar of empty bins, / In an orchard soft with rot.