The
apple-trees are in flower.
Their blushed tips part and widen
into brightness by the hour,
whose fall is near as sudden.
Awhite-pink,
a red thats white,
that tumble into daylight,
opals out of deeping mines,
become one more of your signs;
you who
now are the pattern
of all such things as are right,
and came so soon by this power
to be known by earths designs
that from
Mays hail I took fright
lest you were torn by the stones.