Crab Apple Tree in Bloom
I
N ALL the world there is no lovelier thing
Than this wild crab tree on a sunny hill!
Its pink-white glory, strangely startling,
The windless day is suddenly so still—
I dare not breathe lest I should shatter quite
This radiant mass of color and of light.
I dare not touch one little clustered spray
Lest some wild bee from out a blossom’s heart
Should take his heavy-bodied, bungling way,
And the delicate shaken petals fall apart.
O wind be kind! O bees, in hurrying past,
Go softly that this loveliness may last.
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