Up in a tree we see you, blossom babies,
All pink and white;
We think there must be fairies to protect you
From frost and blight,
Until, some windy day, in drifts of petals,
You take your flight.
You'll fly away!
But if we wait with patience,
Some day we'll find
Here, in your place,
Full grown and ripe, the apples,
You left behind--
A goodly gift indeed, from blossom babies
To human-kind!