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.
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