LILY OF THE VALLE/ 17t) 



Or whose discourse with Innocent delight 

 Shall fill me now, and cheat the wintry night? 

 While hisses on my hearth the pulpy pear, 

 And black'ning chestnuts start, and crackle there 



MILTOX. 



A woman's tongue, 

 That gives not half so great a blow to th' ear, 

 As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



LILY OF THE VALLEY. 



This flower, whose odour is as agreeable as its form is 

 elegant, announces the happy season of May, when 



new verdure clothes the plain, 



And earth assumes her transient youth again. 



MILTON. 



And ye, whose lowlier pride 



In sweet seclusion seems to shrink from view, — 



You of the valley named, no longer hide 



Your blossoms meet to twine the brow of purest bride. 



BARTON. 



Then the sweet lily of the vale 



In woodland dells is found, 

 While whisp'ring winds its sweets exhale. 



And waft its fragrance round. 



