It stands by the roadside, cool-shuttered and high,
With cordial welcome for all who pass by;
And here's how you enter—you make a quick dash
And scale the steep stair with a bound, in a flash.
You cross the clean threshold and find you a chair.
There's room for all comers and plenty to spare.
You can rock, you can rest, happy lodging you win
Who stop for an hour at Apple-tree Inn.
The walls and the roof and the ceiling are green,
With rifts of light blue that are painted between.
The seats are upholstered in brown and dark gray,
And yet, for it all, not a penny to pay.
Then, when you are hungry, the table is spread
With fare that is dainty, delicious, and red.
Oh, hurry and come if you never have been
A guest in your travels at Apple-tree Inn!
NANCY BYRD TURNER.
AN OUTDOOR GIRL
The wind and the water and a merry little girl—
Her yellow hair a-blowing and her curls all out of curl,
Her lips as red as cherries and her cheeks like any rose,
And she laughs to see the little waves come curling round her toes.
The breezes a-blowing and the blue sky overhead,
A laughing little maiden,—and this is what she said:
"Oh, what's the use of houses? I think it is a sin
To take a lot of boards and bricks and shut the outdoors in!"
