Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Wall Street to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
I planted a small apple tree the year my son was born,
And I bought a share of honest work that very same spring morn.
The tree gave me no apples for the first four patient years,
And the share paid me in pennies that I counted through my fears.
But every spring the blossoms came a little more than last,
And every year the pennies grew as seasons hurried past.
Now my son is tall and married and the tree is heavy-bowed,
And the pennies turned to dividends that down the years have flowed.
We pick the apples in the autumn and we share them with the street,
For the fruit of patient planting is the kind that's best to eat.
So plant your tree and buy your share and let the seasons turn,
For the dividends of patience are the sweetest you can earn.
Poet of Wall Street · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
An apple tree and a single share are planted on the same spring morning. Both take years to repay the wait.
The speaker plants “a small apple tree the year my son was born” and buys “a share of honest work.” For “the first four patient years” the tree gives nothing, and the share pays “in pennies that I counted through my fears.”
Blossoms and pennies grow every year until “the tree is heavy-bowed” and the pennies have “turned to dividends.” The family shares the apples “with the street.” The last line: “the dividends of patience are the sweetest you can earn.”