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A goodly host one day was mine, A Golden Apple his only sign, That hung from a long branch, ripe and fine. My host was the bountiful apple tree; He gave me shelter and nourished me With the best of fare, all fresh and free. And light-winged guests came not a few, To his leafy inn, and sipped the dew, And sang their best songs ere they flew. I slept at night, on a downy bed Of moss, and my Host benignly spread His own cool shadow over my head. When I asked what reckoning there might be, He shook his broad boughs cheerily:— A blessing be thine, green Apple tree! |