Poems (Howard)/Apple Blossoms
For works with similar titles, see Apple Blossoms.
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.