Here in this high-heaped reedy basket
Is the year’s fruit misted with morning dew.
I offer you freely this purple cluster,
Or the red-cheeked apple I plucked for you.
This summer-flushed peach may be pleasing,
This black-heart cherry, this golden pear—
Fruit that has hung like jeweled pendants
Gathering light from the rain-washed air.
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