Under the Old Apple-tree 55 



Yes, of all the places on the farm, the orchard's 

 where I'd rather be, and one could almost wish 

 that immortality had been given to the old orchard 

 apple-tree in the branches of which the joys of 

 childhood hang about in festoons, that only fade 

 and wither when memory departs. 



THE OLD FAEM OECHAED 



There can't be any orchard 



Jes' like our old farm orchard 



'At Dad planted many years ago 



around the old farm home ; 

 An' never wuz sech apple-trees, 

 Here, er fur across the seas, 

 Er anywheres a wanderer might on 



this old earth roam. 



'Long about in May time 



Th' merry month o' May time! 



Th' blossoms in that orchard would 



sure give ye dreams o ' heaven ; 

 Air so filled with odour 

 O' applebloom an' clover, 

 It would make a chap o' forty feel like a 



kid o' seven. 



One tree I well remember — 

 An' th' mem'ry makes me tender. 

 Very first tree 'at I climbed while 



yet a teeny, weeny boy. 

 Its branches hung low over 

 A sea o' crimson clover, 

 An' up there I found a robin's nest 



an' shouted loud in joy. 



