To An Orchard Near London Poem by Jan Struther

Bloom passionately, O apple-trees, this spring;
Drink deep of the April sun, the April rain,
That this may be your loveliest blossoming,
O apple-trees that shall not flower again.
And let your apples rounder and sweeter grow
This year than they have ever grown before;
Under their burden let your boughs bend low-
When these are gathered you shall bear no more.
Bloom passionately, then, this last long spring,
That to the very air your ghost may cling
In after years, when roofs and walls shine red
Where once your rosy apples shone instead;
And where your topmost boughs once caught the breeze
Some child may sleep-and dream of apple-trees.