Answered a green apple
From its apple tree:
"Fool to boast, golden orange,
On the breezy shore;
For happiness such as I've found,
Its like cannot be seen."
Then said the breezy meadow,
As yet untouched by scythe:
"Too conceited, little apple,
That speech of thine, meseems,
For happiness such as I've found,
Its like cannot be seen."
Then spake a lovely maiden,
Unsullied by a kiss:
"Thou pratest folly, grass-plot,
Instead of sooth, I ween,
For happiness such as I've found
Its like cannot be seen."
But a handsome lad made answer
To every speech they made;
"You're mad, all mad, to utter
Such words as I've just heard,
For no one in the universe
Can be so blest as I."
"Golden orange by the breezy
Shore I pluck thee now.
Apple, from thy apple tree
To-day I'll shake thee down.
Grass-plot, I'll mow thee level
With my scythe-strokes to-day.
Maiden, as yet unsullied,
To-day I'll kiss thy lips."
W. F. H.
