Under the Tree

by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

And some was plowed for wheat.

The rabbits were thick where he had been,

And he said he'd found some ripe papaws.

He'd rested under a white oak tree,

And for his dinner he ate red haws.

Then I sat by him on the step

To see the things that he had seen.

And I could smell the shocks and clods,

And the land where he had been.

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