The Apple-Tree

I saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night, I saw them like great birds in the starlight— Purple and burning blue, crimson and shining white. And each to each they tossed an apple to and fro, And once I heard their laughter gay and low; And yet I felt no wonder that it should be so. But when the apple came one time to Michael’s lap I heard him say: “The mysteries that enwrap The earth and fill the heavens can be read here, mayhap.” Then Gabriel spoke: “I praise the deed, the hidden thing.” “The beauty of the blossom of the spring I praise,” cried Raphael. Uriel: “The wise leaves I sing.” And Michael: “I will praise the fruit, perfected, round, Full of the love of God, herein being bound His mercies gathered from the sun and rain and ground.” So sang they till a small wind through the branches stirred, And spoke of coming dawn; and at its word Each fled away to heaven, winged like a bird.