From cherry time, till damsons Dropped from the branches sere, That wonderful old orchard Was full of fruit all year; We pick'd it up in baskets, Or pluck'd it from the wall; But the shaking of the pear-tree Was the grandest treat of all. Long, long the days we counted Until that day drew nigh; Then, how we watched the sun set, And criticised the sky! If rain--"'Twill clear at midnight;" If dawn broke chill and gray, "O many a cloudy morning Turns out a lovely day." So off we started gaily, Heedless of jolt or jar; Through town and lane, and hamlet, In old Llewellyn's car. He's dead and gone--Llewellyn, These twenty years, I doubt: If I put him in this poem, He'll never find it out, The patient, kind Llewellyn-- Whose broad face smiled all o'er, As he lifted out us children At grandma's very door. And there stood Grandma's Betty, With cheeks like apples red; And Dash, the spaniel, waddled Out of his cosy bed. With silky ears down dropping, And coat of chestnut pale; He was so fat and lazy He scarce could wag his tail. Poor Dash is dead, and buried Under the lilac-tree; And Betty's old,--as, children, We all may one day be. I hope no child will vex us, As we vexed Betty then, With winding up the draw-well, Or hunting the old hen. And teasing, teasing, teasing, Till afternoon wore round, And shaken pears came tumbling In showers upon the ground. O how we jumped and shouted! O how we plunged amid The long grass, where the treasures, Dropped down and deftly hid; Long, slender-shaped, red-russet, Or yellow just like gold; Ah! never pears have tasted Like those sweet pears of old! We ate--I'd best not mention How many: paused to fill Big basket after basket; Working with right good-will; Then hunted round the orchard For half-ripe plums--in vain; So, back unto the pear-tree, To eat, and eat again.