We children used to cross the orchard, the brown earth covered with little green apples

We children used to cross the orchard, the brown earth covered with little green apples,
into the field beyond;
the grass came up over our knees,
there were so many flowers we did not care to pick any —
daisies and yellow daisies, goldenrod and buttercups.
It was so hot the field smelt of cake baking.
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