From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 43-44.
GOD’S PLANTER
This rhyme sings Johnny Appleseed
By whom the wilds were apple-treed.
The settler and the pioneer,
They called him cracked, they called him queer.
He left the settlements behind him,
The wild beasts saw but did not mind him,
And only Indians could find him.
A bag upon his back he bore
Of apple seed and apple core.
His frame yet stout, he legged it limber,
Out through the brush and taller timber,
The seeds he carried through the wood,
Each one a prayer God understood.
When seedlings sprang up far and near,
He fenced them from the wandering deer.
The man grew old, his eye grew dim,
Along the frontier’s utmost rim
The fruit he stuck was not for him.
O no man knows what visions drew him,
What thrills of love and joy swept through him,
But when the settlers, westward breaking,
Found new land rich and free for taking,
There too were apples for their baking,
[44]
Yea, there amid the forest covers
Bloomed apple blossoms for young lovers.
We know not where he closed his eyes,
Nor where our votive stone should rise.
Sure somewhere in the forest dim,
Like one of old, God buried him.
What does it matter, O my brothers,
Where lie his bones who lived for others?
Wherever orchards blossom bonny,
There stands a monument to Johnny.