The Old Apple-Tree
There's a memory keeps a-runnin'Through my weary head to-night,An' I see a picture dancin'In the fire-flames' ruddy light;'Tis the picture of an orchardWrapped in autumn's purple haze,With the tender light about itThat I loved in other days.An' a-standin' in a cornerOnce again I seem to seeThe verdant leaves an' branchesOf an old apple-tree.
You perhaps would call it ugly,An' I don't know but it's so,When you look the tree all overUnadorned by memory's glow;For its boughs are gnarled an' crooked,An' its leaves are gettin' thin,An' the apples of its bearin'Would n't fill so large a binAs they used to. But I tell you,When it comes to pleasin' me,It's the dearest in the orchard,--Is that old apple-tree.
I would hide within its shelter,Settlin' in some cosy nook,Where no calls nor threats could stir meFrom the pages o' my book.Oh, that quiet, sweet seclusionIn its fulness passeth words!It was deeper than the deepestThat my sanctum now affords.Why, the jaybirds an' the robins,They was hand in glove with me,As they winked at me an' warbledIn that old apple-tree.
It was on its sturdy branchesThat in summers long agoI would tie my swing an' dangleIn contentment to an' fro,Idly dreamin' childish fancies,Buildin' castles in the air,Makin' o' myself a heroOf romances rich an' rare.I kin shet my eyes an' see itJest as plain as plain kin be,That same old swing a-danglin'To the old apple-tree.
There's a rustic seat beneath itThat I never kin forget.It's the place where me an' Hallie--Little sweetheart--used to set,When we 'd wander to the orchardSo 's no listenin' ones could hearAs I whispered sugared nonsenseInto her little willin' ear.Now my gray old wife is Hallie,An' I 'm grayer still than she,But I 'll not forget our courtin''Neath the old apple-tree.
Life for us ain't all been summer,But I guess we 'we had our shareOf its flittin' joys an' pleasures,An' a sprinklin' of its care.Oft the skies have smiled upon us;Then again we 've seen 'em frown,Though our load was ne'er so heavyThat we longed to lay it down.But when death does come a-callin',This my last request shall be,--That they 'll bury me an' Hallie'Neath the old apple tree.
Words in this poem
- gnarled a.
- Knotty; full of knots or gnarls; twisted; crossgrained.
- nook n.
- A narrow place formed by an angle in bodies or between bodies; a corner; a recess; a secluded retreat. [OE. nok; cf. Gael. & Ir. niuc.]
- sanctum n.
- A sacred place; hence, a place of retreat; a room reserved for personal use; as, an editor's sanctum. Sanctum sanctorum Etym: [L.] , the Holy of Holies; the most holy place, as in the Jewish temple. [L., p.p. of sanctire to consecrate.]
- dangle v. i.
- To hang loosely, or with a swinging or jerking motion. [Akin to Dan. dangle, dial. Sw. dangla, Dan. dingle, Sw. dingla, Icel. dingla; perh. from E. ding.]
- jest n.
- A deed; an action; a gest. [OE. jeste, geste, deed, action, story, tale, OF. geste, LL. gesta, orig., exploits, neut. pl. from L. gestus, p. p. of gerere to bear, carry, accomplish, perfor]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Old Apple-Tree is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar, Project Gutenberg ebook #18338; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Paul Laurence Dunbar, The Old Apple-Tree, in The Complete Poems (1893–1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18338, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/dunbar-poems/the-old-apple-tree.html, id L00490.
Form and metre
The Old Apple-Tree is 72 lines in 6 stanzas of 12 lines each. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.6 syllables. 25 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 32% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABAB-C-C-DCD runninA · nightB · dancinA · lightB · orchard · hazeC · it · daysC · corner · seeD · branchesC · treeD
- 2 -A-A-B-B-C-C ugly · soA · over · glowA · crooked · thinB · bearin · binB · you · meC · orchard · treeC
- 3 -ABA-----B-B shelter · nookA · meB · bookA · seclusion · words · deepest · affords · robins · meB · warbled · treeB
- 4 -A-A-B-B-C-C branches · agoA · dangle · froA · fancies · airB · hero · rareB · it · beC · danglin · treeC
- 5 -ABA-C-CBD-D it · forgetA · hallieB · setA · orchard · hearC · nonsense · earC · hallieB · sheD · courtin · treeD
- 6 -A-A-B-B-C-C summer · shareA · pleasures · careA · us · frownB · heavy · downB · callin · beC · hallie · treeC
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| There's a memory keeps a-runnin' | 9 | ··/˘˘··/˘ |
| Through my weary head to-night, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| An' I see a picture dancin' | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| In the fire-flames' ruddy light; | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| 'Tis the picture of an orchard | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| Wrapped in autumn's purple haze, | 8 | ·˘·/˘/˘· |
| With the tender light about it | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| That I loved in other days. | 8 | ···˘·/˘· |
| An' a-standin' in a corner | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| Once again I seem to see | 7 | ·˘/···· |
| The verdant leaves an' branches | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| Of an old apple-tree. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| You perhaps would call it ugly, | 8 | ·˘/···/˘ |
| An' I don't know but it's so, | 7 | ······· |
| When you look the tree all over | 8 | ········ |
| Unadorned by memory's glow; | 8 | ·˘/·/˘˘· |
| For its boughs are gnarled an' crooked, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| An' its leaves are gettin' thin, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| An' the apples of its bearin' | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| Would n't fill so large a bin | 7 | ······· |
| As they used to. But I tell you, | 8 | ········ |
| When it comes to pleasin' me, | 7 | ······· |
| It's the dearest in the orchard,-- | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| Is that old apple-tree. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I would hide within its shelter, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Settlin' in some cosy nook, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Where no calls nor threats could stir me | 8 | ········ |
| From the pages o' my book. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Oh, that quiet, sweet seclusion | 8 | ··/˘·˘/˘ |
| In its fulness passeth words! | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| It was deeper than the deepest | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| That my sanctum now affords. | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| Why, the jaybirds an' the robins, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| They was hand in glove with me, | 7 | ······· |
| As they winked at me an' warbled | 8 | ······/˘ |
| In that old apple-tree. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| It was on its sturdy branches | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| That in summers long ago | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| I would tie my swing an' dangle | 8 | ······/˘ |
| In contentment to an' fro, | 7 | ·˘/˘··· |
| Idly dreamin' childish fancies, | 8 | /˘··/˘/˘ |
| Buildin' castles in the air, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Makin' o' myself a hero | 8 | /˘··/·/˘ |
| Of romances rich an' rare. | 7 | ·˘/˘··· |
| I kin shet my eyes an' see it | 8 | ········ |
| Jest as plain as plain kin be, | 7 | ······· |
| That same old swing a-danglin' | 7 | ······· |
| To the old apple-tree. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| There's a rustic seat beneath it | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| That I never kin forget. | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| It's the place where me an' Hallie-- | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Little sweetheart--used to set, | 7 | /˘/···· |
| When we 'd wander to the orchard | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| So 's no listenin' ones could hear | 9 | ········· |
| As I whispered sugared nonsense | 8 | ··/˘/˘/˘ |
| Into her little willin' ear. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Now my gray old wife is Hallie, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| An' I 'm grayer still than she, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But I 'll not forget our courtin' | 9 | ····˘//·· |
| 'Neath the old apple-tree. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Life for us ain't all been summer, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| But I guess we 'we had our share | 8 | ······/· |
| Of its flittin' joys an' pleasures, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| An' a sprinklin' of its care. | 7 | ······· |
| Oft the skies have smiled upon us; | 8 | ········ |
| Then again we 've seen 'em frown, | 8 | ·˘/····· |
| Though our load was ne'er so heavy | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| That we longed to lay it down. | 8 | ···˘···· |
| But when death does come a-callin', | 8 | ········ |
| This my last request shall be,-- | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| That they 'll bury me an' Hallie | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| 'Neath the old apple tree. | 6 | ···/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.