In My Orange-Grove
by John Banister Tabb
Orbs of Autumnal beauty, breathed to light
From blooms of May,
Rounded between the touch of lengthening night
And lessening day,
Flushed with the Summer fulness that the Spring
(Fair seer!) foretold,
The circle of three seasons compassing
In spheres of gold.
Source:
PoemsCopyright 1894
John Lane, LondonCopeland and Day, Boston