Tonight, tonight I am glad
I did not take the time
To trim the long and thorny vines
That all too often give me grief
When mowing the two-acre back.
For today as I made my rounds
I found among the vines
A crowd of great black berries,
Some prepared to bear and dark as night,
Some pearl white, not yet of age.
A spinster spider stood as keeper;
Her price was not too high--
No more than half a dozen pricks
Of thorn to pick a half a pint,
Apart from what I ate in my labor.
Two days hence I have a plan
To go again to the spider's parlor
And woo a few more sweet young fruit
From home and vine to take their place
(And meet their end) in mine.
s'well done.
(and i don't even like blackberries.)