The hawthorn tree

At the edge of the hedge is a Hawthorn Tree,

And its blossoms are sweet as sweet can be,

And the bees are humming there all the day,

and these are the words that I hear them say: --

Sweet, sweet is the Hawthorn Tree!

All the breezes that breathe o'er those blossoms rare

A burden of perfume happily bear;

And the songsters revel there all day long,

And these are the words of their merry song: --

Sweet, sweet is the Hawthorn Tree!

And a maid and her lover wander by

As the twilight glories fade and die;

And they pause 'neath the fragrant boughs to rest,

And above them sways the robin's nest: --

Sweet, sweet is the Hawthorn Tree!

We too, they whisper, shall soon build a home

'Neath the azure arch of the infinite dome;

And we, all the day, shall sing like the birds,

But with deeper meaning in music and words: --

Sweet, sweet is the Hawthorn Tree!