THE APPLE-TREE. et 
Learned men have learned books, 
Which they ponder day and night; 
Easier leaves than theirs I read,— 
Blossoms pink and white ; 
Blossom-leaves all pink and white, 
Wherein I can see 
Charactered, as clear as light, 
The old apple-tree ; 
The gold-cheeked apple-tree ; 
The red-streaked apple-tree ; 
All the fruit that groweth on 
The ripe, rosy apple-tree ! 
Autumn comes, and our good-man, 
Soon as harvest-toil is o’er, 
Speculates on apple-crops— 
Be they less or more ; 
I could tell him; less or more 
Is well-known to me ; 
I have eyes that see the core 
Of the apple-tree ; 
The old, mossy apple-tree ; 
The young, glossy apple-tree ; 
Scathed or sound, the country round, 
I know every apple-tree ! 
