 | A book for boys and girls |  |
A comely sight indeed it is to see,
A World of Blossoms on an Apple-tree.
Yet far more comely would this Tree appear,
If all its dainty blooms young Apples were.
But how much more might one upon it see,
If all would hang there till they ripe should be.
But most of all in Beauty 'twould abound,
If then none worm-eaten could there be found.
A World of Blossoms on an Apple-tree.
Yet far more comely would this Tree appear,
If all its dainty blooms young Apples were.
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If all would hang there till they ripe should be.
But most of all in Beauty 'twould abound,
If then none worm-eaten could there be found.
But we, alas! Do commonly behold
Blooms fall apace, if mornings be but cold.
They (too) which hang till they young Apples are,
By blasting Winds and Vermine take despair.
Store that do hang, while almost ripe, we see
By blustring Winds are shaken from the Tree.
So that of many only some there be,
That grow till they come to Maturity.
Blooms fall apace, if mornings be but cold.
They (too) which hang till they young Apples are,
By blasting Winds and Vermine take despair.
Store that do hang, while almost ripe, we see
By blustring Winds are shaken from the Tree.
So that of many only some there be,
That grow till they come to Maturity.
| A book for boys and girls | |