Page 1 of The Giving Tree



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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