The drudgery drear of the game.

It's the passing up glamor or pleasure
For the sake of the skill we may gain,
And in giving up comfort or leisure
For the joy that we hope to attain.

It's the hard road of trying and learning,
Of toiling, uncheered and alone,
That wins us the prizes worth earning,
And leads us to goals we would own.

THE APPLE TREE

When an apple tree is ready for the world to
come and eat,
There isn't any structure in the land that's
"got it beat."
There's nothing man has builded with the
beauty or the charm
That can touch the simple grandeur of the
monarch of the farm.
There's never any picture from a human
being's brush
That has ever caught the redness of a single apple's blush.

When an apple tree's in blossom it is glorious
to see,
But that's just a hint, at springtime, of the
better things to be;