Honey Dripping From The Comb

How slight a thing may set one's fancy drifting Upon the dead sea of the Past!--A view-- Sometimes an odor--or a rooster lifting A far-off 'OOH! OOH-OOH!' And suddenly we find ourselves astray In some wood's-pasture of the Long Ago-- Or idly dream again upon a day Of rest we used to know. I bit an apple but a moment since-- A wilted apple that the worm had spurned,-- Yet hidden in the taste were happy hints Of good old days returned.-- And so my heart, like some enraptured lute, Tinkles a tune so tender and complete, God's blessing must be resting on the fruit-- So bitter, yet so sweet!