CHESTNUT SUNDAY
From end to end of Cambridge town
The chestnut boughs move up and down,
And rain their petals on the grass
And on the busy folk who pass.
Their foaming sweetness drops in showers
Under a sky like gentian flowers;
White as a bride’s is their array,
The chestnuts keeping holiday!
Oh, in your dreamless sleep, my dear,
I know, I know you see me here,
Between the voices and the sun,
And petals pattering, one by one.
I never feel you watch me weep,
Nor din of battle breaks your sleep,
But I am sure you woke this hour
To see your chestnut trees in flower!