Peach

Ever misty morning light, Darkest shadows taken flight; Pale colors casually blent, Golden blooms, most luscious scent! Especial, pure and true, Feel freshness, morning's dew! Peach tree grove under a hill, Just at sunrise, hush and still. And on the horizon, skies of pink; Into lush fruit the teeth to sink. And branches are dark and rise above; Song of bird from limb thereof. Eagerly begins the march of day, In the old fashioned way. Such beauty, how so rare! Sun sparkles in her hair. Grove sunrise--sweet Georgia peach, Like a lady, soft of speech; And also full of every grace; Sweet memory's resting place.