Thomas Brower Peacock.

 
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THE GARDEN OF THE MIND.

 
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OH, Weed the weeds unsightly 
    From the garden of the mind, 
That flowers of thought bloom brightly 
    In beauty fair enshrined. 
 
That the fragrance of those flowers 
    Waft in glory oer the earth, 
And forever through the hours 
    Lead to better brighter birth. 
 
 
That the angels all immortal, 
    In their purity and grace 
Smile adown from heaven's portal 
    On the wondrous human race. 
 
(109)