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On Viol and Flute

By Edmund W. Gosse
  
  
  

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 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
XIX. UNDER THE APPLE-TREE.
 XX. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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37

XIX. UNDER THE APPLE-TREE.

Against her breast I set my head, and lay
Beneath the summer fruitage of a tree,
Whose boughs last spring had borne for her and me
The fleeting blossom of a doubtful day;
That rose and white had tasted swift decay,
And now the swelling fruits of certainty
Hung there like pale green lamps, and fair to see,
And I was strong to dream the hours away
Against her breast;
Her satins rustled underneath my head,
Stirred by the motions of her perfect heart,
But she was silent, till at last she said,—
While all her countenance flushed rosy-red,—
“Dear love! oh! stay forever where thou art,
Against my breast!”