THE BISHOP’S GARDEN
(Based on what was seen around the home of Bishop Cameron Mann, Orlando, Fla.)
“Come into my garden,” said the Bishop unto me;
’Tis the greatest little garden that ever you may see.
Behold a sturdy phalanx of the giant bamboo,
Which defends the garden’s side in valiant line and true,
And yonder bunch of bamboo is the prouder Japanese,
The equal in beauty of the trimmest of the trees.
“My delight is in the palm, the pride of sunny tropics,
The tree in all Nature for the poet’s varied topics;
I here have them all but the gorgeous royal palm—
King Frost is oft unfriendly to his majesty’s balm.
“And consider, if you please, that rare Australian Oak,
Standing there so lonely, like the greatest of the folk;
And the other generous fellow, the noble camphor tree,
Gives peace and health and hope to many a bird and me.
“I am sure you must admire my good Banhania plant,
With all the grace and beauty which she doth ever grant;
She’s not unlike a mother who must protect her own;
Her buds she close infolds when dangers are fore-known.
“My lovely Jacaranda changes Nature’s plan,
As the unlike woman, or like the wilful man,
The blossoms coming first, its verdant foliage last,
But its loveliness in May time will hold you firm and fast.
“And see the running roses, hugging close my home;
They clasp my heart so sweetly that it never more may roam.
Burbank has none that’s better than my purest Cherokee,
With its dainty white so spotless, and his naive simplicity.
“And here is the Phevitia, and there the Bottle Brush,
The Myrtle bloom so solemn, and now I can but blush—
The Holy Spirit’s plant, my very humblest flower,
That worships the gracious Father from his lowly bower.
“Now take your fill of orange, of grape-fruit and of lime;
Your choice, sir, of the kumquat, or the loquart in its prime.”
“Oh, my good sir,” cried I, with gladdest heart and head,
“’Tis Heaven’s own ante-chamber, this brightest Bishop-stead.”