secretary's budget. 337 



So these mute pleaders plead the best 

 In picturing sorrows to the eye. 

 These are the words they seem to cry : 



THE FRUIT trees' PRAYER. 



" O Master, we appeal to you ; 



For many years we've thrived and grew 



Upon the food dame Nature gave, 



But, this exhausted, now we crave 



The aid that you alone can give — 



The food without which none can live. 



Too long you've starved us in your greed, 



You've cropped our ground, nor given heed 



To Nature's tixed eternal laws ; 



That ends result from equal cause. 



That constant cropping must exhaust 



The food stored up at endless cost; 



The grass, with myriad mouths, devours 



The food which justly should be ours. 



Root out, destroy this thieving foe ! 



And, if you'd have us thrive and grow, 



And give you fruit as once we gave. 



And like good Christian trees behave, 



Feed us from yon cattle yard ; 



Stir us the soil, now stiff and hard. 



Prune off our limbs, that now are dead, 



And paint their stumps with oil and lead ; 



From off our trunks the roughest bark 



i>crape well ; and we will here remark — 



A wash of soap or alkali 



With a stiff brush if you'll apply, 



'Twill brighten our complexion much. 



And drive away the insects— such 



As lay the eggs whose larvfe bore 



Our vitals through ; and what is more. 



Thus weakened, we cannot withstand 



The freezing grip of Boreas' hand. 



Cut out these grubs ; for now tliey sleep 



Pent up within our bodies deep. 



" Do all these things and you shall see, 

 Tbo' man to man ungrateful be — 

 Pomona pours her richest gifts 

 On him who cares for and uplifts 

 Her feeble children from death's door, 

 And thus befriends them con amore. 



"Now listen to our final call ; 

 We speak to farhiers, one and all. 



u R— 22 



