Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.
Anna Bunston De Bary367. Under a Wiltshire Apple Tree
S
So I’ve heard say,
Set up a sort of cross
Right in the garden way
To mind ’em of the Lord.
Thik apple tree
An’ stoopin’ limb
All spread wi’ moss,
I think of Him
And how He talks wi’ me.
And how He trod
That garden long ago;
He walked, I reckon, to and fro
And then sat down
Upon the groun’
Or some low limb
What suited Him
Such as you see
On many a tree,
And on thik very one
Where I at set o’ sun
Do sit and talk wi’ He.
An’ sit down where the branch be low;
A bird do sing, a bee do hum,
The flowers in the border blow,
And all my heart’s so glad and clear
As pools when mists do disappear:
As pools a-laughing in the light
When mornin’ air is swep’ an’ bright,
As pools what got all Heaven in sight
So’s my heart’s cheer
When He be near.
He left no footmark on the floor;
I never heard ’Un stir nor tread
And yet His Hand do bless my head,
And when ’tis time for work to start
I takes Him with me in my heart.
At very last thik apple tree
An’ stoopin’ limb,
And think of Him
And all He been to me.