Come, let us plant the apple tree!
Cleave the tough green sod with a spade.
Wide let its hollow bed be made,
There gently lay the roots
And sift the dark mold with kindly care,
  And press it o’er them tenderly,
As round the sleeping infant’s feet
We softly fold the cradle sheet,
  So we plant the apple tree.

  What do we plant in this apple tree?
Buds which the breath of summer days
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays,
Boughs where the thrush with crimson breast
Shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest.
  We plant upon the sunny lea
A shadow for the noontide hour,
A shelter from the summer shower,
  When we plant the apple tree.

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