The big Sky-man that makes the Moons,
Stuck one into our Apple tree;
I saw it when I went to Bed;
The Tree was black; the Moon was red,
And round as round could be.
To-day I went to get that Moon,
For I can climb the Apple-tree;
The Moon was gone. But in its stead
I found an Apple round and red,
And nice as nice could be.
HAMISH HENDRY.