I’m bringing you a poem today about apples from The Enid Blyton Poetry Book. I decided on this poem over others because there are so many apples around at the moment, falling from wayside trees and leaving a plentiful bounty for those happy foragers to pick that I just had to share it!
Apples on the apple trees, brown and red and yellow,
Apples on the grass below, juicy, sweet and mellow,
Apples in our baskets, apples by the score,
Apples in the apple-room, hundreds there and more!
Apples on the sideboard, polished till they gleam,
When the firelight flickers, how they wink and beam!
Apples in the kitchen, shivering in their skin,
Wondering why Cook has fetched her biggest baking-tin!
Apples in an apple-pie, baked a golden brown.
Apples in a dumpling, with a sugared crown.
Apples in a pudding, with custard for a tweet,
Apples raw and juicy, crisp and very sweet!
Oh, sing a song of apples, the nicest fruit of all,
Apples big and rosy, apples round and small,
And when we’ve finished singing, we’ll go and help ourselves,
And choose some lovely big ones from the store-room shelves!
So there we are, doesn’t it make you want an apple right now? And does anyone know what an “apple room” is, as mentioned in line four? Is it just basically a pantry?
Hope you enjoyed the poem.