The Wild Plum Tree

By Anne Whitney

You should have seen it, sire; a vicious thing,
Knotting defiance in its crabbed twigs,
And arguing with full fifty bitter leagues
Of sea-winds maddening on a rocky shore.

No wonder! well, half-doubting I uptore
And bore it inland -- doubting, set it here,
Where it might feel the garden's warmth and cheer,
And only heaven's forbearing winds might come.

Only its attic vigor to maintain,
I fed it each quick-blooded spring
With salt to thirsting, and it grew, my king,
Straightened, and bloomed, as never plum before.

Here is the fruit. So please you, taste and see
How nature straight replies to such a call; --
And yonder has my plum, beneath the wall,
The warm earth colonized with fruitful trees.