That if this home to us you'd leave,
Our honey of more worth would be
Than all the wood of this old tree?
All tender memories apart,
Does not this reason reach your heart?"
"Ah, yes!" the gardener said at last,
"What happy days have here been past!
Much do I owe this good old tree
For all the fruit 't has given me.
How oft my wife has hither stray'd,
To sit beneath its soothing shade,
While 'midst its whisp'ring leaves above,
The nightingales recall'd our love!
Yes, let the old tree stand!
And for these bees whose honied store
Will make me richer than before,
With flowers I'll plant the land."
So thus it is, we may rely,
That mankind grateful will be found,
When only ev'ry means we try
To have them by their int'rests bound.