APPLE BLOSSOM TIME. 



The time of apple blooms has come again, 

 And drowsy winds are laden with perfume; 



In village street, in grove and sheltered glen 

 The happy warblers set the air atune. 



Each swaying motion of the bud-sweet trees 

 Scatters pale, fragrant petals everywhere ; 



Reveals the tempting nectar cups to bees 



That gild their thighs with pollen. Here and there 



The cunning spoilers roam, and dream and sip 



The honey-dew from chalices of gold ; 

 The brimming cups are drained from lip to lip 



Till, cloyed with sweets, the tiny gauze wings fold. 



Above the vine-wreathed porch the old trees bend, 

 Shaking their beauty down like drifted snow : 



And as we gaze, the lovely blossoms send 

 Fair visions of the days of long ago. 



Yes, apple blossom time has come again. 

 But still the breezes waft the perfumes old. 



And everywhere in wood, and field, and glen 

 The same old life appears in lovelier mold. 



— Nora A. Piper. 



153 



