High up in the apple tree climbing I go, With the sky above me, the earth below. Each branch is the step of a wonderful stair Which leads to the town I see shining up there. Climbing, climbing, higher and higher, The branches blow and I see a spire, The gleam of a turret, the glint of a dome, All sparkling and bright, like white sea foam. On and on, from bough to bough, The leaves are thick, but I push my way through; Before, I have always had to stop, But to-day I am sure I shall reach the top. Today to the end of the marvelous stair, Where those glittering pinacles flash in the air! Climbing, climbing, higher I go, With the sky close above me, the earth far below.
This poem is in the public domain.
About this Poem
From A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass (Houghton Mifflin Company, 1912)
Born in 1874, Amy Lowell was deeply interested in and influenced by the Imagist movement and she received the Pulitzer Prize for her collection What's O'Clock.
Date Published: 2018-07-09
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/climbing