In The Orchard
APPLES red and apples green,
Apples rich and ripe are seen
In the orchard near the road,—
Apples, apples, by the load!
In the spring the trees were white,
Apple-blossoms, such a sight
Little apples filled the trees,
Fanned all summer by the breeze.
Little apples grew and grew,
Living on the rain and dew;
Now the fruit in great rich stores
Harvest in the orchard pours.
Glad the farmer's swelling heart!
Glad the little children start
For the orchard, where they play
"Picking apples" all the day.
Uncle Forrester.