APPLE BLOSSOMS.
81
The violets, that star their bed
With eyes of azure hue, are led
To view the gorgeous scene o'erhead;
Where clusters rich of pink and white
The breezes woo by day and night,
With whisperings of pure delight.
With eyes of azure hue, are led
To view the gorgeous scene o'erhead;
Where clusters rich of pink and white
The breezes woo by day and night,
With whisperings of pure delight.
'Mid glowing warmth of noon-day skies
The bee from out his prison flies,
And, provident, seeks his supplies
From honeyed cells of blooming things;
And while he loads his dusky wings
With sweetest nectar, gayly sings.
The bee from out his prison flies,
And, provident, seeks his supplies
From honeyed cells of blooming things;
And while he loads his dusky wings
With sweetest nectar, gayly sings.
While buds are to perfection wrought,
A song, with tender memories fraught,
Just sings itself into my thought,
Of a half-forgotten apple-bough,
That blossomed once as these do now,
And shaded oft my fevered brow.
A song, with tender memories fraught,
Just sings itself into my thought,
Of a half-forgotten apple-bough,
That blossomed once as these do now,
And shaded oft my fevered brow.
O apple blooms! the lips are gone
That sang of you one golden dawn,
But, fresh and sweet, ye still bloom on
And all the air with perfume fill;
And with your beauty hearts shall thrill
When the voice that praises you is still.
That sang of you one golden dawn,
But, fresh and sweet, ye still bloom on
And all the air with perfume fill;
And with your beauty hearts shall thrill
When the voice that praises you is still.
