Love's Firstfruits
"As the sweet-apple blushes on the end of bough, the very end of the bough, which the gatherers overlooked, nay overlooked not, but could not reach."—Sappho.
I bring to thee the fruitage of first love!
The flower but faintly touched with passion's pink
Pushed forth, untended, t'was a fragile thing
To fight alone with all the fears of life!
And yet it grew expanding day by day,
Each petal pure as sun-soft summer air
Pressed forward to the perfect Fane of Love
That fronted it. For Love was king and light—
The only king that fair faint blossom knew!
The flower but faintly touched with passion's pink
Pushed forth, untended, t'was a fragile thing
To fight alone with all the fears of life!
And yet it grew expanding day by day,
Each petal pure as sun-soft summer air
Pressed forward to the perfect Fane of Love
That fronted it. For Love was king and light—
The only king that fair faint blossom knew!
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