Page:Poems Hoffman.djvu/151

From censers, wrought of sunbeam gold,
Thy lilac's incense burn;
And apple-blossoms sweet unfold,
Round memory's golden urn;
And happy birds and honey bees,
Still chant in joyous tone;
Among the vines and locust trees,
Fair Valley of Ione.

Thy purple clustering grapes are bright
With never fading dyes,
Thy cherries, steeped in yellow light,
To match thy sunset skies;
And russet pears and apricots
To blushing ripeness grown;
Brightened thy shady orchard plots,
Fair Valley of Ione.

But like the mildew on the rose,
A blight forever there,
Thy charms of rosy bloom, unclose
To miasmatic air;

[ 123 ]