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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