To Blossoms

The apple trees are all a-bloom, forming fields of white. I love it!
But the delicate blossoms don't stay nearly as long as we would all like.

Here's one person's lamentable oration to blossoms:

To Blossoms
Robert Herrick

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
     Why do ye fall so fast?
     Your date is not so past,
But you may stay yet here awhile,
     To blush and gently smile;
     And go at last.

What, were ye born to be
     An hour or half's delight;
     And so to bid good-night?
'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth
     Merely to show your worth,
     And lose you quite

But you are lovely leaves, where we
     May read how soon things have
     Their end, though ne'er so brave:
And after they have shown their pride,
     Like you, a-while--they glide
     Into the grave.