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CONVENT GARDENER.
Manhood's career in savage climes he ran,
On lonely California's Indian shore—
Dispelling superstition's deadly ban,
Or teaching (what could patriot do more?)
Those rudiments of peace, the gardener's humble store.
Oft have I marked him, silent and apart,
Loitering near the sunny convent-gate.
Rewarded by tranquillity of heart
For toils so worthy of the truly great;
And in my soul admired, compared his state
With that of some rude brawler, whose crude mind
Some wondrous change on earth would fain create;
Who after flatt'ring, harassing mankind,
Gains titles, riches, pomp, with shame and scorn combined.
