Though a fabled divinity once had let fall
An apple of gold, where his favorites thronged,
Inscribed, “Of the fair, to the fairest of all!”
It was not to me this whole apple belonged:
My friend was no god—and then I, but a woman;
I thought that to halve it were just about human.
The whole I declined; still I did not deny
A wish that, unuttered, was strong in my heart;
And from it entire, while averting my eye,
I own I was secretly coveting part;
And had he divided the offering presented,
Preserving one half, I had come off contented.
Had Solomon been there to put in a word,
His wisdom had brought the debate to an end,
Deciding at once, by the edge of his sword,
This contest of kindness between friend and friend:
Yet he with the apple was quite too short-sighted
To see how I might in a half have delighted.
I hope that next autumn he ’ll go where it grew,
And, if not forbidden the fruit, that he ’ll reach
And pluck a fair apple, then cut it in two,
And tell me at once that a half is for each.
Of friendship’s best gift how the worth may be lightened
By having it whole, when, if shared, how ’t were heightened!
[THE HALF APPLE.]
A year after the foregoing poem was written, a nice little casket was sent me, at the distance of thirty-five miles, which, on opening, I found to contain the half of an apple like the one I had seen the previous autumn.
The half of an apple, well-flavored and fair,
Which shows by division such soundness of heart,
I gratefully hold; and acknowledge the care
And kindness of him, who retains t ’other part.
The fruit, that would perish, I taste with delight,
The seed taking out to lay cautiously by,
Because it encloses, concealed from my sight,
An emblem of that, which in us cannot die.