Apple Blossoms.

Of all the lovely blossoms         That decorate the trees,         And shower down their petals         With every breath of breeze,     There is nothing so sweet or fair to me     As the delicate blooms of the apple tree.         A thousand shrubs and flow'rets         Delicious pleasure bring,         But beautiful Pomona         Must be the queen of spring;     And out of her flagon the peach and pear     Their chalices fill with essence rare.         Oh, is it any wonder,         Devoid of blight or flaw,         The peerless blooms of Eden         Our primal mother saw     In redolent beauty before her placed     So tempted fair Eve the fruit to taste?         But woman's love of apples,         Involving fearful price,         And Adam's love for woman         That cost him Paradise,     By the labor of hands and sweat of brow,     Have softened the curse to a blessing now.         If so those pink-eyed glories,         In fields and orchards gay         Develop luscious fruitage         By Horticulture's way,     Then, sweet as the heart of rich legumes,     Shall luxury follow the apple blooms.