24
WHEN ORCHARDS BLOOM.
Now come the days when orchards bloom,
And lilacs are unfolding,
And Nature from the winter's tomb
Fresh loveliness is moulding,
When in the woods there rise anew
Anemone and meadow-rue,
And everywhere the violets blue
High carnival are holding.
When, touched by changing sun and shower,
The chestnut buds are filling,
And purple hyacinths each hour
Fresh fragrance are distilling,
When here and there enchanting notes
Come ringing from impassioned throats,
And flash of blue or scarlet coats
Sets all one's pulses thrilling.
