In folds whose fragrance thrilled the wond’ring air—
A robe of pale, rose-tinted blossoms woven!
Amazed and breathless did the scoffers stare.
And, one and all, they turned from jest and laughter,
And, one and all, together whispered they:
“Behold, behold the garment of our brother!
Who ever saw the like before to-day!”
Since then, alway, in early dawn of summer,
Dame Nature lifts her wand the trees to shame
Who envy him that wears the apple blossoms