Or climb to the top, the world to see;
(Some have gone from the home the world to see!)
And when autumn comes, and leaves turn brown,
And the ripened fruits are shaken down,
And here and there, on the orchard ground,
The red and the golden are heaped around—
'Tis the children who gather that tree by the wall,
And the apples from off its boughs that fall,
With kindly care are stored away,
Sure to appear on Christmas Day