430 MISSOURI STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



What plant we in this applc-trcc ? 

 Fruits that shall swell in sunny June 

 And redden in the August noon, 

 And drop when gentle air comes by 

 That fan the blue September sky. 



While children come with shouts of'glee, 

 And seek them where the fragrant grass 

 Betrays their bed to those who pass 



At the foot of the apple-tree. 



Each year shall give this apple-tree 

 A broader flush of roseate bloom, 

 A deeper maze of verdurous gloom 

 And loosen when the frost-clouds lower. 

 The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower ; 



The years shall come, and pass, but we 

 Shall hear no longer where we lie 

 The summer's song, the autumn's sigh. 



In the boughs of the apple-tree. 



A CURBSTONE SCENE. 



In the shade of a tree, by the street of the city. 



Lay a tired little boy, with the turf for his bed, 

 In rags, but no beggar appealing to pity, 



A child of the lowly who toiled for his bread. 

 Beside him a handcart stood loaded with fuel, 



Bits of board he had gleaned in the lanes where he crept. 

 Till the wheels o'er the pavement dragged heavy and cruel. 



And spent with the strain of his burden, he slept. 



Will any one care, as the many pass nigh him .■* 



A thread-bare, wood-sawyer, bent, wrinkled and old, 

 Caught sight of the sleeper, came near and stood by him. 



And read in the picture the story it told. 

 Hungry face, scanty raiment, with barely a button, 



Hatless head, naked feet, fretted sore on the stone — 

 He fished out a morsel of dry bread and mutton. 



And left him the dinner he'd brought for his own. 



