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LILIES. 
Stoops their high heads, that vainly were ex¬ 
posed. 
She feels it not, but flourishes anew. 
Still shelter’d and secure. And as the storm. 
That makes the high elm couch, and rends 
the oak, 
The humble lily spares,—a thousand blows 
That shake the lofty monarch on his throne, 
We lesser folks feel not. Keen are the pains 
Advancement often brings. To be secure. 
Be humble ; to be happy, be content. 
The same. —anon. 
White-bud ! that in meek beauty so dost 
lean. 
Thy cloister’d cheek as pale as moonlight 
snow, 
Thou seem’st beneath thy huge, high leaf of 
green, 
An eremite beneath his mountain’s brow. 
White-bud, thou’rt emblem of a lovetide thing. 
The broken spirit that its anguish bears 
To silent shades, and there sits offering 
To heaven the holy fragrance of its tears. 
