I like the chaliced lilies. 

 The heavy Eastern lilies. 

 The gorgeous tiger-lilies^ 

 That in our garden grow! 



For they are tall and slender; 



Their mouths are dashed with carmine. 



And when the wind sweeps by them. 



On their emerald stalks 



They bend so proud and graceful, — 



They are Circassian women. 



The favorites of the Sultan, 



Adown our garden walks ! 



Thomkis Bailey Aldrich. 



The Morning-Glory 



Wondrous interlacement ! 

 Holding fast to threads by green and silky rings. 

 With the dawn it spreads its white and purple wings ; 

 Generous in its bloom, and sheltering while it climbs. 

 Sturdy morning-glory. 



Creeping through the casement, 

 Slanting to the floor in dusty, shining beams. 

 Dancing on the door in quick, fantastic gleams. 

 Comes the new day's light, and pours in tearless 

 streams. 



Golden morning-glory. 



The Pink 



And dearer I, the Pink, must be. 

 And me thou sure dost choose. 



Or else the gard'ner ne'er for me 

 Such watchful care would use ; 



A crowd of leaves enriching bloom ! 



And mine through life the sweet perfume. 

 And all the thousand hues. 



Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 



