GARDENS, WREATHS, &c. 
27 
Here, man, thy wisdom borrow, 
In heart be a child, 
In word, true and mild, 
Hold by faith, come joy, or come sorrow. 
INVOCATION TO A WREATH OF TRANSATLANTIC 
FLOWERS. 
MRS. M. BALMANNO. 
Ye flowers that o’er the dark dread sea, 
Like faded mourners come, 
By your past beauty, tell to me 
A tale of mine own home. 
What of my Father, hardy leaf 
Of Albion’s bulwark tree 1 — 
He lives — unharmed by age or grief, 
His emblem I to thee ; 
His step is firm, his eye is bright, 
His accents clear and strong 
As when, thy childhood to delight, 
He raised the joyous song. 
What of my Mother, lovely rose, 
Speak'—■ for my tears are nigh 1 — 
Look on the stream that placid flows, 
And the unclouded sky : 
For these in heaven’s own language show 
Her spirit unto thine : 
