'Twas August: and a Gypsy Breeze
Came wandering thro' the wood.
'Our fortunes!' cried the lover Trees
That first before her stood.
'Sir Hickory the king shall be
Of all this wide demesne;
And you,' she added tenderly,
'Fair Maple, shall be queen.'
They listened, smiling as she spoke,
Nor heeded what she told,
Till came the morning when they woke
Arrayed in red and gold.