AT THE MARRIAGE.
An apple tree at Ranko’s door was growing,
Its trunk was silver, golden were its branches;
Its branches golden, and of pearls its foliage,
Its leaves were pearls, and all its apples corals.
And many dovelets, on the branches seated,
Coo’d in their fond affection to each other;
Coo’d loudly, and they pluck’d the pearls—one, only
One, only one was silent, one was silent—
It coo’d not, pluck’d no pearls from off the branches:
That one was terrified by Ranko’s mother:
“Begone—gray dovelet! thou art an intruder!
Was not the apple-tree by Ranko planted?
By Ranko planted, and by Ranko watered,
That it might shade the guests at Ranko’s marriage,
Shade all his guests beneath its joyous branches.”
THE END.