THE LOTUS-FLOWER 97 



The deadly daggers of the cold 

 Approach thee, and the year grows old. 

 Is it because I love thee so 

 Thou waitest, waving to and fro 

 Thy flowery spike, to gladden me, 

 Against the background of blue sea ? 

 I wonder hast thou not some sense, 

 Some measure of intelligence 

 Responding to my joy in thee ? 

 Almost I dream that it may be, 

 Such subtleties are Nature's, hid 

 Her most well-trodden paths amid ; 

 Such sympathies along her nerves ; 

 Such sweetness in her fine reserves. 

 Howe'er it be, I thank the powers 

 That gave me such enchanted hours 

 This late October, watching thee 

 Wave thy bright flowers against the sea. 



CELIA THAXTKB. 



THE LOTUS-FLOWER 



THE Lotus-flower doth languish 

 Beneath the sun's fierce light ; 



With drooping head she waiteth 

 All dreamily for night. 



The Moon is her ti-ue lover, 

 He wakes her with his glance : 



To him she unveils gladly 

 Her gentle countenance. 



G 



