ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



THE ORCHARD. 



ITS seeds were in the clearing sown, 

 It felt the vigorous soil ; 

 Long since to massive grandeur grown, 



It paid the settler's toil. 

 There blossoms by the breeze released, 



Fall in a sweet May shower, 

 There autumn brings its dainty feast, 

 To grace Pomona's bower. 



The earliest whispers of the spring, 



Its branches linger through; 

 There ever did the bluebird bring 



The sweetest notes it knew. 

 The robin seeks its lusty arms 



Outstretched in kindest way; 

 The bobolink amidst its charms 



Sings through the long June day. 



But not to song bird all alone, 



An Eden it appears ; 

 What place has childhood ever known 



That memory more endears. 

 Perhaps affection's early gleam 



Imparts more vivid glow 

 But there the blossoms whitest seem, 



The apples fairest grow. 



There boyhood climbed the topmost bough. 



To pluck the finest fruit ; 

 While girlhood, flushed on cheek and brow, 



Came eager in pursuit ; 

 But he, allured by witching eyes, 



To her the prize has thrown 

 Blame not, for never yet more wise 



Has manhood ever grown. 



In later years, when bending low 



With fruit of green and gold, 

 Did not the listening branches know 



The tale of love they told ? 

 Did not the trees in murmuring speech 



Recall some moonlight stroll, 

 Where joyful eyes flashed back to each 



The lovelight of the soul ? 



