The Cow in Apple-Time
Robert Frost
1874 to 1963
Something inspires the only cow of late
To make no more of a wall than an open gate,
And think no more of wall-builders than fools.
Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools
A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit,
She scorns a pasture withering to the root.
She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten
The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten.
She leaves them bitten when she has to fly.
She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry.
Robert Frost's The Cow in Apple-Time
I am busy working to bring Robert Frost's "The Cow in Apple-Time" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
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