PLUMS Children of ye Garden We Simple and of low Degree. Such as chuse Us ere our Time Suffer Paines unmeet for Rhyme Such as eat Us overmuch Suffer like ye other Such. Purblind Race of toiling men Lap Us round with Pye-Crust—then Served with Sugar and with Cream Ye shall find Us what we Seem. THE PEACH Ye Garden's royal Pride am I. A Queen of Beauty manifold, Y-clad in Crimson dasht with Golde And crowned by every Summer Skie. Take ye my Largesse merrilie Nor dread this Giving shall grow small. Ye Trellis on ye Sun-warmed Wall Hath hundreds not less Faire than I. BERRIES We be gamins of the Wood Who claim the Bramble's brotherhood, A feeble folk in russet dressed Of all Earth's children littlest. The brown Bear knows us where we hide By river-bank or mountain-side— The settler's baby, brown as he, Espies where our battalions be And shameless peddles at the mart Red jewels warm from Nature's heart. THE WATERMELON I sprawl in the sunshine & grow (Ho! Ho!) I am seen of the small boy afar (Ha! Ha!) At night he appropriates me (Hee! Hee!) He eats—and is sure he will die (Hi! Hi!) And the Earth with its sorrow and sin Continues to spin. APPLES By Cause of Us was Eden lost (Ye ancient Legend saith) And Adam by ye Heavenly Post Was driven forth to Death Thys is our Sin (or Hers that pluckt) Yet doe our Orchards make Almost an Eden reconstruct And guiltlesse of ye Snake. For underneath ye laden Boughe That fretts ye Summer Skie In more than Eden Idlenesse Ye Citic Folk may lie. And catche (in murmur of ye Bees)— An Echoe of ye Town, And marke from out ye Sleepie Trees Fat Apples tumbling downe. GRAPES Wee have sett, sith Time began Madnesse in ye Minde of Mann, Soe that Hee shoulde sinke—alas! Lower than ye Kine att Grasse.— yet for all oure past Misdeede Wee be of a noble Breede— Emerald and Purple dyed, Rome's delight and Gallia's Pride An ye doubte our High Pretence Eate of us in Innocence
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