August 12, 2011
WHEN apple blossoms come in May,
And clover comes in June,
When bees can work from day to day,
“In soft and pleasing tune,”
When basswood comes in hot July,
And heartease in the fall,
Then may we on the bees rely,
For food and raiment all.
But when the spring is cold and drear,
The apple blossoms killed—
When clover fails to reappear,
With shining blossoms filled;
When basswood flowers are scarce and dry,
And heartease none at all,
We feel like sitting down to cry,
We’re driven to the wall.
‘Tis well for us, we see most clear,
The bitter with the sweet,
Is mingled nearly every year,
To make our lives complete.
When clover fails her shining yield.
Then basswood comes along,
And autumn flowers in every field,
Oft tune our thankful song.