THE GIVING TREE. (c) 1964, renewed 1992 Evil Eye, LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. 
 
 
 
 
 
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available. 
 
EPub Edition (c) 2014 
 
ISBN: 9780061965104 
 
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 
 
FIRST EDITION 
 
 
 
 
 
Once there was a tree . . . 
 
 
 
 
 
and 
 
she loved 
 
a 
 
little boy. 
 
 
 
 
 
And every day 
 
the boy 
 
would come 
 
 
 
 
 
	 and 
 
he 
 
would 
 
gather 
 
her 
 
leaves 
 
 
 
 
 
and make them 
 
into crowns 
 
and play king of the forest. 
 
 
 
 
 
	 He would climb up her trunk 
 
 
 
 
 
and swing from her branches 
 
 
 
 
 
		 and eat apples. 
 
 
 
 
 
	 And they 
 
would play 
 
hide-and-go-seek. 
 
 
 
 
 
		 And when 
 
he was tired, 
 
he would sleep 
 
in her shade. 
 
 
 
 
 
And the boy loved the tree . . . 
 
 
 
 
 
		 		 very much. 
 
 
 
 
 
			 	 And the tree was happy. 
 
 
 
 
 
	 But time went by. 
 
 
 
 
 
	 And the boy grew older. 
 
 
 
 
 
	 And the tree was often alone. 
 
 
 
 
 
Then one day the boy came to the tree 
 
and the tree said, "Come, Boy, come and climb 
 
up my trunk and swing from my branches 
 
and eat apples and play in my shade 
 
and be happy." 
 
"I am too big to climb and play," said the boy. 
 
"I want to buy things and have fun. 
 
I want some money. 
 
Can you give me some money?" 
 
"I'm sorry," said the tree, "but I have no money. 
 
I have only leaves and apples. 
 
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them 
 
in the city. Then you will have money 
 
and you will be happy." 
 
 
 
 
 
	 And so the boy climbed up the 
 
tree and gathered 
 
her apples 
 
and carried them away. 
 
 
 
 
 
		 		 And the tree was happy. 
 
 
 
 
 
But the boy stayed away 
 
for a long time . . . 
 
and the tree was sad. 
 
And then one day 
 
the boy came back 
 
and the tree shook with joy 
 
and she said, "Come, Boy, 
 
climb up my trunk 
 
and swing from my branches 
 
and be happy." 
 
 
 
 
 
"I am too busy to climb trees," 
 
said the boy. 
 
"I want a house to keep me warm," 
 
he said. 
 
"I want a wife and I want children, 
 
and so I need a house. 
 
Can you give me a house?" 
 
"I have no house," said the tree. 
 
"The forest is my house, 
 
but you may cut off my branches 
 
and build a house. 
 
Then you will be happy." 
 
 
 
 
 
		 	 And so the boy cut off 
 
her branches 
 
and carried them away 
 
to build his house. 
 
 
 
 
 
		 And the tree was happy. 
 
 
 
 
 
But the boy stayed away 
 
for a long time. 
 
And when he came back, 
 
the tree was so happy 
 
she could hardly speak. 
 
"Come, Boy," she whispered, 
 
"come and play." 
 
"I am too old and sad to play," 
 
said the boy. 
 
"I want a boat that will 
 
take me far away 
 
from here. 
 
Can you give me a boat?" 
 
 
 
 
 
"Cut down my trunk 
 
and make a boat," 
 
said the tree. 
 
"Then you can sail away . . . 
 
and be happy." 
 
 
 
 
 
		 	 And so the boy cut down her trunk 
 
 
 
 
 
	 and made a boat and sailed away. 
 
 
 
 
 
		 		 And the tree was happy . . . 
 
 
 
 
 
		 			 but not really. 
 
 
 
 
 
And after a long time 
 
the boy came back again. 
 
"I am sorry, Boy," 
 
said the tree, "but I have nothing 
 
left to give you-- 
 
 
 
 
 
My apples are gone." 
 
"My teeth are too weak 
 
for apples," said the boy. 
 
"My branches are gone," 
 
said the tree. "You 
 
cannot swing on them--" 
 
"I am too old to swing 
 
on branches," said the boy. 
 
"My trunk is gone," said the tree. 
 
"You cannot climb--" 
 
"I am too tired to climb," said the boy. 
 
"I am sorry," sighed the tree. 
 
"I wish that I could 
 
give you something . . . 
 
but I have nothing left. I am just 
 
an old stump. I am sorry. . . ." 
 
 
 
 
 
"I don't need very much now," 
 
said the boy, 
 
"just a quiet place to sit and rest. 
 
I am very tired." 
 
"Well," said the tree, 
 
straightening herself up 
 
as much as she could, 
 
"well, an old stump is good 
 
for sitting and resting. 
 
Come, Boy, sit down. 
 
Sit down and rest." 
 
 
 
 
 
And the boy did. 
 
 
 
 
 
		 			 And the tree was happy. 
 
 
 
 
 
		 	 The End 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree    
  (Series:  # )   
   
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