From the Grand Forks Daily Herald, October 13, 1914. By Kate W. Hamilton.
The grapes on the trellis are purple and sweet,
They tempt little fingers and clambering feet.
We will pick them all, there are plenty for each,
But it’s strange how the finest grow just out of reach.
But grandfather says—he’s old and wise—
That the difference is not in the grapes, but our eyes.
That the things within reach never please us so much
As the things we can’t have, that are just beyond touch.
There are beautiful grapes that we crush with our feet
While we eagerly climb for others more sweet;
That fruit within reach is the fruit for the day,
And to pluck as you go is the sensible way.
Oh, grandfather’s wise, for grandfather is old;
But no matter how often we all have been told,
At the vines every morning, it seems to us each
That the very best grapes are the grapes out of reach.