  How is a little boy to know About these berries all, That ripen all the summer through, From spring-time until fall? I must not eat them till they're ripe, I know that very well; But each kind ripens differently, So how am I to tell? Though strawberries and raspberries, When ripe, are glowing red, Red blackberries I must not touch, Mamma has lately said. And though no one of these is fit To touch when it is green, Ripe gooseberries, as green as grass, At Grandpapa's I've seen. And peas are green when they are ripe; Some kinds of apples too. But they're not berries; neither are These currants, it is true. These currants, now! why, some are red, And some are brilliant green. "Don't eat unripe ones!" said Mamma. But which ones did she mean? To disobey her would be wrong. To leave them I am loath. I really can't find out, unless— Unless I eat them both! |
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