STATE POMOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 147 



While all we love are homeward gathering — 

 Yes, sing my song, and lift with me a prayer: 

 "God keep us all — We thank Thee for Thy care, 

 We thank Thee for the fruitage and the flower, 

 The Roses and the Apples — Give us power 

 To do the right, avoid the wrong, and bring 

 Our praise to Thee upon November's wing." 



Thus did I write. 



Oh wise Fruit-growers — but I long to-night 



To throw the prosy verses all away. 



And sing the poem I have seen to-day. 



If I had seen 



Those glorious apples, golden, crimson, green, 



If I had seen those grand Chrysanthemums, 



(Oh how their beauty to my vision comes) 



The double-white, the feathery pink, the red, 



The grand prize blossom ; and. interpreted, 



I might have written poetry, instead 



Of empty rhymes^i — 



And. when the song was done. 

 Have had a shorter and a better one. 

 They are the poem, shown to me, 

 But why should I rehearse 

 Their loveliness? — 



In them, you see 

 God's own resplendent verse. 



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