-256 - SELECT POETRY

THE BREAD-FRUIT TREE.

‘TueRrx is an island where no peasants toil,

To drive the ploughshare in the fertile soil !

No seed is sown, no corn-fields deck the plain,
No ponderous millstqnes bruise the ripened grain;
Their mellow harvest ripens overhead,

Their groves supply them with abundant bread;
On stately trees, the sun and genial air,

' Without man’s aid, unceasing food prepare.

Still further benefits these trees bestow ;

The stem is felled, behold! the light canoe ;
From the tough fibres of the bark, proceeds
Such simple clothing as the climate needs ;
Delightful clime! where flowers perpetual grow,
Unchecked by winter’s frost, or showers of snow.

 

THE PIOUS WISH.

Ou that mine eye might closed be

To what becomes me not to see !

That deafness might possess mine ear

To what concerns me not to hear!

That truth my tongue might closely tie

From ever speaking foolishly’!

That no vain thought might ever rest,

Or be conceived within my breast !

That by each word, each deed, each thought,

Glory may to my God be brought.
; Eltwood.