Out in an orchard evening
They walked without a word,
And apple buds in moonlight
Above them swelled and stirred.
Out in an orchard evening
They walked through apple bowers
And on them fell the honey
Of gently swaying flowers.
Now back from orchard evening
They come without a word,
But deadly hangs the silence
Between them like a sword,
And lips that kiss at parting
Are now a hail-hard shower
To bruise and shred and mangle
The remnants of a flower.