Willie And The Apple

LITTLE Willie stood under an apple tree old

The fruit was all shining with crimson and gold,

Hanging temptingly low; how he longed for a bite,

Though he knew if he took one it wouldn't be right.

Said he, 'I don't see why ray father should say,’

'Don't touch the old apple tree, Willie, to-day.'

I shouldn't have thought, now they're hanging so low,

When I asked for just one he would answer me, 'No.'

"He would never find out if I took but just one,

And they do look so good, shining out in the sun;

There are hundreds and hundreds, and he wouldn't miss

So paltry a little red apple as this."

He stretched forth his hand, but a low, mourning strain

Came wandering dreamily over his brain;

In his bosom a beautiful harp had long laid,

That the angel of conscience quite frequently played:

And he song, "Little Willie, beware, oh, beware!

Your father is gone, but your Maker is there;

How sad you would feel if you heard the Lord say,

'This dear little boy stole an apple to-day!'"

Then Willie turned round, and as still as a mouse,

Crept slowly and carefully into the house;

In his own little chamber he knelt down to pray

That the Lord would forgive him, and please not to say,

"Little Willie almost stole an apple to-day."