And so never grieve you again.

But, for fear that I should dare
From all your commands to depart,
Whenever I'm saying my prayer
I'll ask for a dutiful heart.






THE APPLE-TREE.

[Illustration: L]

Let them sing of bright red gold;
Let them sing of silver fair;
Sing of all that's on the earth,
All that's in the air;
All that's in the sunny air,
All that's in the sea;
And I'll sing a song as rare,
Of the apple-tree!

The red-bloomed apple-tree;
The red-cheeked apple-tree;
That's the tree for you and me,
The ripe, rosy apple-tree!