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By William Robert Prince. The Horticulturists of Poland — May the 

 Tree of Liberty, which they have so gloriously planted, overshadow and 

 exterminate all germs of despotism. 



By Alfred S. Prince. Flora and Pomona. Alike animating the hearts 

 of their votaries in every clime. 



THE FEAST OF FRUITS AND FLOWERS. 



BY THOMAS G. FESSENDEN, ESQ. 

 Sung during the entertainment hy Mr. J. W. Newell, of Charlestown. 



Come, Cultivators, leave awhile 



Your Gardens, Fields and Bowers, 

 And join with us to celebrate 



Our Feast of Fruits and Flowers ; 

 With blameless luxury enjoy 



Rich products of the soil, 

 Rewards, which crown the Art of Arts, 



When skill enlightens toil. 



What though within our temperate zone, 



No burning sun sublimes 

 The Fruits the Destinies bestow 



On pestilential climes .' 

 All health and happiness require, 



All man should ask of heaven 

 To satiate innocent desire 



Is in profusion given. 



The worst privations we endure 



Prove blessings in the event, 

 And should our gratitude excite 



Instead of discontent ; 

 For ills which task our highest powers 



To conquer or evade 

 But bid the human race aspire 



To reach its highest grade. 



No imps of sloth lie basking here, 



Like serpents in the sun, 

 Even mountain streams to turn machines 



Must labor as they run ; 

 Within New-England's granite bounds 



No useless beings lurk. 

 The rough and raging elements 



We yoke and set to work. 



When sentimental zephyrs blow 



For love and rhyming fit, 

 Our windmills make them work like dogs 



Compelled to turn the spit ; 

 Niagara's thundering cataract 



Our power shall hamper till 

 It toils like Dutchman in a ditch 



Or Samson in his mill. 



