Classic Poem

Of all the childish memories
That brighten with the flying years,
And bring a gladness to the eyes
Like laughter coming after tears,
There's none that makes the heart bound on
With all its youthful jollity,
Like that sweet vision of the lawn —
The old gnarled apple-tree

It stood just where the lawn swept down
Into a rapid, steep descent,
Beneath each stately neighbor's frown,
A placid picture of content;
And let the years bring what they would,
The orchards bare or burdened be,
Abundant fruit it bore and good —
The old gnarled apple-tree.

'Twas said that many years agone
A sad-faced lady, with her child,
Came unattended and alone,
And dwelt within the western wild;
She by the simple people round
Was more than human deemed to be;
Her saintly hand placed in the ground
The old gnarled apple-tree.

The woman seemed half happy grown;
The child was desolate and sad,
The flowers and the birds had flown —
The only playmates that he had;
And so one day, in wanton play,
He ran with rude and reckless glee;
One tender sapling broken lay —
The old gnarled apple-tree.

The woman bound it with a tear,
And blessed it in her saintly way;
And that is why from year to year,
As I have heard the people say,
The springtime always brings her bloom,
The summer fruitage fair to see,
To crown with plenty and perfume
The old gnarled apple-tree.

All glad things loved the dear old tree;
And early came the screaming jay
The robin and the honey-bee,
And children laughing in the way;
And in the dawn and in the dew
Arose a joyous melody —
The praiseful song of Nature to
The old gnarled apple-tree.

My little sister, fair and sweet, —
Now sadly far from me, alas! —
'Twas only yesterday our feet
Slipped softly through the dewy grass;
Slipped through the grass, and through the gloom,
And wild with merriment and glee
We filled our wide-spread aprons from
The old gnarled apple-tree!

Do I but wander? When alone
My life grows young and glad and warm;
The dearest joys the heart has known
Are void of earthly shape and form.
Then fly, my soul, and clasp again
The sacred sweets of memory!
The fondest loves of youth enchain
The old gnarled apple-tree!