The Golden Apple

WITH a wondrous host, serene and bold,
I tarried as a boarder lately;
His sign was an Apple of the brilliantest gold,

At the which men marvelled greatly.

It was under the boughs of the goodly Apple-tree,
Which from time immemorial has flourished,

That I gathered yellow honey like the blithe summer-bee,
And was tenderly warmed and nourished.

Through the day, my hours, however they might pass,

Ever flitted, like butterflies, lightly;
And I slept upon soft luxuriant grass

In a roomy summer-house nightly.

There came to the bowery Elysium of mine host

So many a wild wood ranger!
And he laughed as they banqueted by millions at his cost,

For he never saw the face of a stranger.

After months I asked him how much was to pay,

But he said he was no attorney;
All benisons be therefore on his head I pray,

While the green Earth goes her journey!