A Lilac bush and an Apple tree
Were standing in the woods
Out on the hill above the town
Where once a farmhouse stood

And in the winter the leaves are bare
And no one sees the signs
Of a house that stood and a garden that grew
And life in another time

One Spring when the buds came bursting forth
And grass grew on the land
The Lilac spoke to the Apple tree
As only an old friend can

"Do you think," said the Lilac, "this might be the year
When someone will build here once more?
Here by the cellar, still open and deep
There's room for new walls and the floor"

"Oh, no," said the Apple, "there are so few
Who come here on the mountain this way
And when they do, they don't often see
Why we're growing here, so far away

A long time ago we were planted by hands
That worked in the mines and the mills
When the country was young and the people who came
Built their homes in the hills

But now there are cities, the roads have come
And no one lives here today
And the only signs of the farms in the hills
Are the things not carried away"

Broken dishes, piles of boards
A tin plate, an old leather shoe
And an Apple tree still bending down
And a Lilac where a garden once grew