In The Orchard




APPLES red and apples green,

Apples rich and ripe are seen

In the orchard near the road,—

Apples, apples, by the load!

In the spring the trees were white,

Apple-blossoms, such a sight

Little apples filled the trees,

Fanned all summer by the breeze.

Little apples grew and grew,

Living on the rain and dew;

Now the fruit in great rich stores

Harvest in the orchard pours.

Glad the farmer's swelling heart!

Glad the little children start

For the orchard, where they play

"Picking apples" all the day.




Uncle Forrester.