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.
Naught within her eyes he read
That would tell her mind unto him;
Though their light, he after said,
Quivered swiftly through and through him;
Till at last his heart burst free
From the prayer with which ’twas laden,
And he said, ‘When wilt thou be
Mine for evermore, fair maiden?’
‘When,’ said she, ‘the breeze of May
With white flakes our heads shall cover,
I will be thy brideling gay–
Thou shall be my husband-lover.’
‘How,’ said he, in sorrow bowed,
‘Can I hope such hopeful weather?
Breeze of May and Winter’s cloud
Do not often fly together.’
Quickly as the words he said,
From the west a wind came sighing,
And on each uncovered head
Sent the apple-blossoms flying;
”Flakes of white!’ thou’rt mine,’ said he,
‘Sooner than thy wish or knowing!’
‘Nay, I heard the breeze,’ quoth she,
‘When in yonder forest blowing.’
by Will McKendree Carleton
