1. After Apple-Picking
By Robert Frost

2. My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree

3. Toward heaven still,

4. And there's a barrel that I didn't fill

5. Beside it, and there may be two or three

6. Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.

7. But I am done with apple-picking now.

8. Essence of winter sleep is on the night,

9. The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.

10. I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight

11. I got from looking through a pane of glass

12. I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough

13. And held against the world of hoary grass.

14. It melted, and I let it fall and break.

15. But I was well

16. Upon My Way to Fall Before it Fell

17. And I Could Tell

18. What Form My Dreaming was About to Take

19. Magnified Appear and Disappear

20. Stem End and Blossom end,

21. And Every Fleck of Russet Showing Clear

22. My Instep Arch Not Only Keeps the ache,

23. It Keeps the Pressure of a Ladder Round

24. I Feel the Ladder Sway as the Boughs Bend.

25. And I Keep Hearing from the Cellar Bin

26. The Rumbling Sound

27. Of Load on Load of Apples Coming in

28. For I Have had too much

29. Of Apple Picking: I am Overtired

30. Of the Great Harvest I myself Desired

31. There Were Ten Thousand Thousand Fruit to Touch,

32. Cherish in Hand, Lift Down, and not let Fall

33. For All

34. That Struck the Earth

35. No Matter if not Bruised or Spiked with Stubble,

36. Went Surely to the Cider-Apple Heap

37. As of no Worth.

38. One can see what will Trouble

39. This Sleep of Mine, Whatever Sleep it is.

40. Were he not Gone,

41. The Woodchuck Could say Whether It’s Like his

42. Long Sleep, as I Describe its Coming on

43. Or Just some Human Sleep.

44. Rhyme Scheme
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn't pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I am drowsing off. I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight I got from looking through a pane of glass I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough And held against the world of hoary grass. It melted, and I let it fall and break. But I was well Upon my way to sleep before it fell, And I could tell What form my dreaming was about to take. Magnified apples appear and disappear, Stem end and blossom end, And every fleck of russet showing clear. My instep arch not only keeps the ache, It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round. I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.

45. Rhyme Scheme
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn't pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I am drowsing off. I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight I got from looking through a pane of glass I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough And held against the world of hoary grass. It melted, and I let it fall and break. But I was well Upon my way to sleep before it fell, And I could tell What form my dreaming was about to take. Magnified apples appear and disappear, Stem end and blossom end, And every fleck of russet showing clear. My instep arch not only keeps the ache, It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round. I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend. A B C D E F G H I J K L M

46. Rhyme Scheme A B C D E F G H I J
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin The rumbling sound Of load on load of apples coming in. For I have had too much Of apple-picking: I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired. There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch, Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall. For all That struck the earth, No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble, Went surely to the cider-apple heap As of no worth. One can see what will trouble This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is. Were he not gone, The woodchuck could say whether it's like his Long sleep, as I describe its coming on, Or just some human sleep.

47. Rhyme Scheme A B C D E F G H I J
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin The rumbling sound Of load on load of apples coming in. For I have had too much Of apple-picking: I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired. There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch, Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall. For all That struck the earth, No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble, Went surely to the cider-apple heap As of no worth. One can see what will trouble This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is. Were he not gone, The woodchuck could say whether it's like his Long sleep, as I describe its coming on, Or just some human sleep. L N O P Q R S T U V W X

48. Poem Themes Death Unfinished tasks Being unable to pick all the apples
Shattered dreams
The breaking of the ice on the trough
Religion
The ladder being a stairway to heaven
Senses
Nature
Using nature as a metaphor
Sleep

49. Language Techniques used in the Poem
Metaphor: sleep is on the night
Onomatopoeia: the rumbling sound
Repetition: of load on load of apples coming in, there were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch
Awkward sentence structure: of apple picking: I am overtired
Personification: I keep hearing from the cellar bin

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51. The End
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