The Planting of the Apple Tree.
11
And drop, when gentle airs come by,That fan the blue September sky, While children come, with cries of glee,And seek them where the fragrant grassBetrays their bed to those who pass, At the foot of the apple tree.
And when, above this apple tree,The winter stars are quivering bright,And winds go howling through the night,Girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth,Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth, And guests in pronder homes shall see,Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine,And golden orange of the line, The fruit of the apple tree.
The fruitage of this apple treeWinds, and our flag of stripe and starShall bear to coasts that lie afar,
