Explore "Songs" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The apple-tree is white with snow, / My heart is empty as the day; / The white hours indolently go / Graveward, because my love's away.
Months lag, then spring and love's return -- / Yet once again I seem to see, / Flushed with delight, as kisses burn, / White snow upon the apple-tree.