142
POEMS OF THE OPEN AIR.
APPLE-GATHERING.
Essex flats are pink with clover,
Kent is crowned with flaunting hops,
Whitely shine the cliffs of Dover,
Yellow wave the Midland crops;
Sussex Downs the flocks grow sleek on,
But, for me, I love to stand
Where the Herefordshire beacon
Watches o'er his orchard land.
Where now sun, now shadow dapples—
As it wavers in the breeze—
Clumps of fresh-complexioned apples
On the heavy-laden trees:
