from MY APPLE TREE
            Rose Terry Cooke
                p. 1888
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Out by my door the apple tree,
With wholesome hospitality,
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 his smooth, obsequious head,
He seems in eager haste to be
Inspecting that old apple tree.  (1-14)


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** contributory thanks to Sam Droege **

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