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By Elinor Wylie

Too high, too high to pluck

My heart shall swing.

A fruit no bee shall suck,

No wasp shall sting.


If on some night of cold

It falls to ground

In apple-leaves of gold

I’ll wrap it round.


And I shall seal it up

With spice and salt,

In a carven silver cup,

In a deep vault.


Before my eyes are blind

And my lips mute,

I must eat core and rind

Of that same fruit.


Before my heart is dust

At the end of all,

Eat it I must, I must

Were it bitter gall.


But I shall keep it sweet

By some strange art;

Wild honey I shall eat

When I eat my heart.


O honey cool and chaste

As clover’s breath!

Sweet Heaven I shall taste

Before my death.


n/a

Source: Nets to Catch the Wind (1921)

  • Living
  • Love
  • Relationships

Poet Bio

Elinor Wylie
Elinor Wylie was born in Somerville, New Jersey to a prominent family, including a grandfather who was the governor of Pennsylvania and a father who was the Solicitor General. Through her early efforts she achieved some status in literary circles, and in 1921 published a volume of poetry that brought her fame. She published novels and poetry prodigiously until her death seven years later. Her poems find their influence in 16th and 17th century verse, combining a moderate tone with formal verse structures. See More By This Poet

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