Magazine article from our research archive:

The Orchard Thief

Come sweet lemon come away,

The grove cannot enfold us.

Let's bleach the whisper from the sky.

Let luscious winds embalm us,

No trace of us but wafts away,

Before the fragrant morning!

Come sweet lemon come away,

Before the fragrant morning

Sucks in its cheeks that bid us stay

Below the citrus awning,

I'll dip my finger in your juice

The grove cannot enfold us.

Come sweet lemon come away,

I'll write what I'm too shamed to say

On your sweet skin or bitter

And breathe on it that it may dry

Let's bleach the whisper from the sky

That none may read my letter

Come ...

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