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POEMS.
Oh! not to destroy, the flail I employ—
Far sweeter this voice than the birds
To the Husbandman dear, the wheat need not fear—
Heart-cheering and precious the words.

Then a song for the flail, the smooth-handled flail-—
And a song for the laborer, too;
For while threshing his grain, he has threshed out, 'tis plain,
A moral for me and for you.