[THE FIG TREE AND THE FLOWERING SHRUB.]
Flowers which many leaves display,
In fruitless beauty fade away.
Cries one of these, with saucy sneer,
To a plain fig-tree growing near,
"How comes it, honest friend, that thou
Dost in the spring no blossoms show?"
Says he, "I keep them out of view,
For fear I should resemble you,