ON ENTERING A CONSERVATORY OF 



TROPICAL PLANTS. 



Lo ! the stately Palm-trees rise, 

 Soaring to the azure skies, 

 Telling of the worlds on high, 

 Links of their sublimity. 



Fern-trees there with graceful mien, 

 Spread around their domes of green, 

 Ever fresh their leaves unfold, 

 Pure and clear as emerald ; 



Emblems meet of Charity, 

 In age they never show decay, 

 Never is their foliage cast, 

 Young it springeth to the last. 



Screw-pines there with buoyant stem, 

 Bearing many a cone-like gem, 

 As their leafy heads they raise, 

 Speak their mighty Maker's praise. 



Banyans there with widening bound, 

 Arching o'er the shadowed ground, 

 Thickly girt with tropic flowers, 

 Imitate old Eden's bowers. 



Pure and sacred be each thought, 

 By the better influence taught, 

 While our hearts within us glow, 

 Mindful whence all blessings flow. 



B. C. 



