Blossom of the apple trees! 
Mossy trunks all gnarled and hoary, 
Grey boughs tipped with rose-veined glory, 
Clustered petals soft as fleece 
Garlanding old apple trees! 

How you gleam at break of day! 
When the coy sun, glancing rarely, 
Pouts and sparkles in the pearly 
Pendulous dewdrops, twinkling gay 
On each dancing leaf and spray. 

Through your latticed boughs on high, 
Framed in rosy wreaths, one catches 
Brief kaleidoscopic snatches 
Of deep lapis-lazuli 
In the April-coloured sky. 

When the sundown's dying brand 
Leaves your beauty to the tender 
Magic spells of moonlight splendour, 
Glimmering clouds of bloom you stand, 
Turning earth to fairyland. 

Cease, wild winds, O, cease to blow! 
Apple-blossom, fluttering, flying, 
Palely on the green turf lying, 
Vanishing like winter snow; 
Swift as joy to come and go.