An apple orchard smells like wine;
A succory flower is blue;
Until Grief touched these eyes of mine,
Such things I never knew.
And now indeed I know so plain
Why one would like to cry
When spouts are full of April rain—
Such lonely folk go by!
So wise, so wise—that my tears fall
Each breaking of the dawn;
That I do long to tell you all—
But you are dead and gone.
More verses by Lizette Woodworth Reese
- In Time Of Grief
- A Christmas Folk-Song
- That Day You Came
- Love Came Back At Fall O’ Dew
- Oh, Gray And Tender Is The Rain