Birds and flowers and other country things :: :: University of Virginia Library

Let them sing of bright red gold;
Let them sing of silver fair;
Sing of all that's on the earth,
All that's in the air;
All that's in the sunny air,
All that's in the sea;
And I'll sing a song as rare
Of the apple-tree!
The red-bloomed apple-tree;
The red-cheeked apple-tree;
That's the tree for you and me,
The ripe, rosy apple-tree!

Learned men have learned books,
Which they ponder day and night;
Easier leaves than theirs I read,—
Blossoms pink and white;
Blossom-leaves all pink and white,
Wherein I can see
Charactered, as clear as light,
The old apple-tree;
The gold-cheeked apple-tree;
The red-streaked apple-tree;
All the fruit that groweth on
The ripe, rosy apple-tree!

Autumn comes, and our good-man,
Soon as harvest-toil is o'er,
Speculates on apple-crops—
Be they less or more;
I could tell him; less or more
Is well-known to me;
I have eyes that see the core
Of the apple-tree;
The old, mossy apple-tree;
The young, glossy apple-tree;
Scathed or sound, the country round,
I know every apple-tree!

Winter comes, as winter will,
Bringing dark days, frost, and rime;
But the apple is in vogue
At the Christmas-time;
At the merry Christmas-time
Folks are full of glee;
Then they bring out apples prime,
Of the primest tree;
Then you the roast-apple see,
While they toast the apple-tree,
Singing, with a jolly chime,
Of the brave old apple-tree!