Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward

Apple-Blossoms

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Cold Care and I have run a race,
And I, fleet-foot, have won
A little space, a little hour,
To find the May alone.


I sit beneath the apple-tree,
I see nor sky nor sun;
I only know the apple-buds
Are opening one by one.


You asked me once a little thing,--
A lecture or a song
To hear with you; and yet I thought
To find my whole life long


Too short to bear the happiness
That bounded through the day,
That made the look of apple-blooms,
And you, and me, and May!


For long between us there had hung
The mist of love's young doubt;
Sweet, shy, uncertain, all the world
Of trust and May burst out.


I wore the flowers in my hair,
Their color on my dress;
Dear Love! whenever apples bloom
In Heaven, do they bless


Your heart with memories so small,
So strong, so cruel-glad?
If ever apples bloom in Heaven,
I wonder are you sad?


Heart! yield thee up thy fruitless quest
Beneath the apple-tree;
Youth comes but once, love only once,
And May but once to thee!

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Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward