Songs and Sonnets (Coleman)/When Orchards Bloom
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.
And what of thee, O sullen heart—
Still busy with thy grieving?
Hast thou no little leaves to start,
Thy barrenness retrieving?
Nay, leave thy chamber, come abroad,
See how the apathetic clod
Awakens at the touch of God,
Spring's sacrament receiving.
Wilt thou not answer to the call,
Thy selfish grief forsaking,
And trust the Love behind it all,
Life's promises partaking?
The frailest little flower that blows
A higher dream of Heaven knows
Than he who dully grieving goes
When round him Spring is breaking.