Poems (Howard)/Apple Blossoms

by Hattie Howard

Apple Blossoms.

The fairest flowers of all I see,
Whose fragrance sweet is wafted me,
Are those which crown the apple-tree;
In calyx red, with petals white,
The lily and the rose unite
To render each a lovely sight.

Beneath the apple-tree I stand,
My cheek by zephyrs softly fanned,
As sweet as winds from Ceylon's land;
While rose-crowned boughs above me sway
To every spring-bird's joyous lay
That wakes to song the breath of May.

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.

'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.

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.

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.