THE APPLE 



Come, let us plant the apple tree. 

 Cleave the tough greensward with the spade; 

 Wide let its hollow bed be made; 

 There gently lay the roots, and there 

 Sift the dark mold with kindly care, 



And press it o'er them tenderly, 

 As, round the sleeping infant's feet, 

 We softly fold the cradle-sheet; 



So plant we the apple tree. 



What plant we in this apple tree? 

 Buds, which the breath of summer days 

 Shall lengthen into leafy sprays; 

 Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast, 

 Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest; 



We plant, upon the sunny lea, 

 A shadow for the noontide hour, 

 A shelter from the summer shower, 



When we plant the apple tree. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 



(From " The Planting of the Apple Tree.") 

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