From Thoreau’s Journal, #17

There is a wild apple on the hill
Which has a pleasant bitter tang,
Not perceived
Til it is three quarters tasted.
It remains on the tongue.

As you cut it,
It smells exactly
Like a squash-bug.

It is a sort of triumph
To eat and like it,
An ovation.

- October 29, 1855

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s