ABSTRACT
The Summer7 mocked the ruddy apple-tree, And treated fruit and leaf with raillery :— “ As for the posy that in Spring of late Thou barest on thy breast intoxicate, With just a blush remembered in its bloom, And branches yielding exquisite perfume, How didst thou find a purchaser to buy, And do thy marketing so readily ? Those emeralds and rubies who bestowed On thee that bendest underneath the load ? Sooth ! thou hast bartered blossom for the grace Of colour wherewithal to deck thy face,8 But brought me to despair who cannot see Thy blossoms for thy flaunting bravery.”
