Here once stood an apple tree,

Dignified by its use to me...

The sun would gild its noble frame,

Until the day the windstorm came...

The proud trunk wielded its branches high,

But a swirling gail spelled out its doom...

The roots let out an insulted cry,

As they were humbled by the great simoom...

Here now lies a mound of weeds,

That feeds on the worthless apple seeds...