The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1881-07-23
MY APPLE TREE.

Stretches abroad its friendly hands
TO welcome all the airy bands.
Its knotted branches, worn and gray
Show some bright burden every day.
In winter time the woodpecker
Makes in those boughs his tiny stir,
The little tap of busy bill
The signal OF his work and skill
With sober coat and spark Of red
Cresting bis smooth, obsequious head,
He seems in eager haste to be
Inspecting that old apple tree.
There the neat snow-bir in the sun
Sits when his frugal meal is done;
For him those pale and scanty rays
Have tho kind charm of summer days.
His slaty coat aud snowy breast,
His aspect trim, and short black bcak;
His shining eye, severely meek;
His bold, familiar, close advance,
With sidewise head and sidelong glance,
Delight niue eyes when cold winds blow.
love him, but he brings the snow.
Here when the spring begins to call
The sparrow sings his n,adrigal;
Through slcet and hail, in shino or rain,
hear hlm DER and DER again:
9 Resilio! silio siIio! sill y
He MARBLES with such CHEEKY will,
| bless the sweet, persistent song,
And wish my courage were as strong.
On him the blue-birl follows fast,
His whistle, too, detics the blast,
His bosom red and mantle blue
With the first South Winds breath are due
He brings the blossoms hope and cheer,
As deep III chest his song they hear.
Then the tat robin bends the boughs.
Prospecting for his summer house
SO red and round he seems to be
Himself an apple on the tree;
With plaintive song he prophesies
Long days OF rain, though bright the skies
And when the sun returns once more
He sings yet louder than before,
Struts on the fence, chirps sharp and loud,
by no insulting rival cowed
with danntless heart and ready wing,
Prepared alike to fight or sing.
Then come the softer DAYS and airs:
Each knottcd twig its wreath prepares,
AS tender flowers Of pink and pearl
Those sturdy crimson buds unfurl,
I'LL all the tree more lovely shows,
Decked with its slight and gracious rose,
Than tropic forests high in air.
Or almond blooms on branches bare.
.hcn tiny warblers fit and sing,
with golden spots on crest and wing,
Or, dcckcd with scarlet epaulettc,
Beneath each dusky winglct set,
They hunt tho blossoms for their prey
And pipe their fairy rounlclay.
The crimson finch, with whirr and tr;ll,
ItIltcu llkc sunsets, req ana chill,
Perched in knot OF blossoms pale,
Mods Ills quick head and flirts his tail,
And calls his sobcr-suited spouse
10 dinner in the fragrant boughs;
Before him tribes shall disappear
That threat the promise Of the year;
And when awhile lle gives them rest,
To build his warn, and secret nest,
The soidfinch, social, clipper, bright,
Takes in those branches his delight;
A troop like flying suubcams pass
And light among the vivid grass.
Or on the end OF some long branch,
Light acrobats, in air they launch,
And III the wild wind sway and swing,
Intent to tWitter, glance aud sing;
Till overhead the Oriole
POurs out the passion of his sOnl,
winged flame that darts and burns,
Dazzling whcie'er his bright wing turns,
Yet fierce to scold and quick to fight,
Battle with peers his chief delight,
And many u song Of victory
Awakes and thrills the apple tree!
But summer brings these branches peace;
The song and strife OF sprinStimc cease;
Their homes are built each fc;lthcred breast
Is busted with its little nest.
Careless Of praise, secure of food,
They keep the Fathers promise good,
And preach their tender homly
OF hope and love and trust, to me,
Then comes the ripening autumn time,
That rounds my trees abundant prime.
Its bouglls are bent with fragrant fruit,
Flushed with the sun that warns it's root,
And yellow as the starry light
That raincd from Hcay'n each summer night
Now comes another noisy troop
On every dropping sphere to swoop,
With ragged coats and saucy eye,
And tangled hair, they wander by,
Waitin. for some kind moment when
The wind will swing the gate again.
And leave their feet an entrance free
To gather apples from my tree.
do not love them like the birds,
These gracclcss, chattcring, idle herds;
Yet shall the birds my bounty share
And these small urchins find it sparol
Has Heaven no lesson taught to me
by this my generous apple tree!
Rose Terry Cooke IL ". Y. Independent