All day in the green sunny orchard When May was a marvel of bloom, I followed the busy bee-lovers Down path that were sweet with perfume.

The apple blossoms' shower of pearl, Though blent with rosier hue, As beautiful as woman's blush, As evanescent too.

Underneath an apple-tree Sat a maiden and her lover; And the thoughts within her he Yearned, in silence, to discover. Round them danced the sunbeams bright, Green the grass-lawn stretched before them While the apple blossoms white Hung in rich profusion o'er them.

She remembered how Billy always picked the first apple blossoms and put them into a tin cup for her. They made the house smell like springtime. Billy said apple trees were a double blessing, first for the blossoms and then the apples.

I stand holding the apple in both hands. It feels precious, like a heavy treasure. I lift it up and smell it. It has such an odour of outdoors on it I want to cry.

The tender word forgotten, The letter you did not write, The flower you might have sent, dear, Are your haunting ghosts tonight