Old Orchard (verse)
Raftery, Gerald
Old Orchard The builders hammer nearer day by day. The tentacles of streets Stretch up their arms of red-raw clay. The clanking shovel eats The ground that raised so many crops of hay. Nearer...
...Nearer the hammer beats...
...Broad acres now have shrunk...
...Old apple crops are shriveled up and gone, Their heady liquor drunk...
...Gerald Raftery...
...It rings out like a knell, the ax upon A wrinkled rusty trunk...
...The laughing drinkers, in oblivion...
Vol. 11 • March 1930 • No. 21
