The apple-boughs o'erburdened with their load,
That passers-by may gather from the road,
Hang now the near walls o'er:
And filberts, bursting fair,
Seduce the loiterer to reach the hand,
And pluck the offered treasures of the land,
With wood-nuts that are there.
The still hill-sides are clad
With bloom; the distant moorland now is bright
With blossom, and with beauty; the rich sight