 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
Apple Blossoms
I
Apple blossoms, full of gladness,Smiling o'er my orchard walk,
Tell of Winter's vanished sadness,
And of songs and sunshine talk;
Pink and white, all rarely painted,
Like the rosy dawn of life,
Bright with hope and unacquainted
With the shadow and the strife.
24
II
Apple blossoms, full of sadness,Raining on my orchard walk,
Tell of Spring's departed gladness,
And of care and sorrow talk:
All the painted petals shattered,
Soiled and crushed beneath my feet,
All the rosy sunbeams scattered
Which made youth and love so sweet.
III
But those blossoms, reft of beauty,Strewn along my orchard walk,
Sweetly having done their duty,
As they die, of Autumn talk:
What though now the branches o'er me
Wear a sad and sober green,
Still there shines a hope before me,
Life's fair fruit shall yet be seen!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |