The Apple-Barrel Of Johnny Appleseed

On the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” I saw gray Johnny Appleseed at prayer Just as the sunset made the old earth fair. Then darkness came; in an instant, like great smoke, The sun fell down as though its great hoops broke And dark rich apples, poured from the dim flame Where the sun set, came rolling toward the peak, A storm of fruit, a mighty cider-reek, The perfume of the orchards of the world, From apple-shadows: red and russet domes That turned to clouds of glory and strange homes Above the mountain tops for cloud-born souls:-- Reproofs for men who build the world like moles, Models for men, if they would build the world As Johnny Appleseed would have it done-- Praying, and reading the books of Swedenborg On the mountain top called “Going-To-The-Sun.”