Water Lily. 
Mauk where transparent waters glide, 
Soft flowing o’er their tranquil hed; 
There, cradled on the dimpling tide, 
Nymphaea rests her lovely head. 
But conscious of the earliest ray, 
Though night mists veil the lake or land, 
She hastes to greet the orient day, 
And bids her peerless sweets expand. 
Till the bright day star to the west 
Declines, in ocean’s surge to lave; 
Then folded in her modest vest, 
She slumbers on the rocjring wave. 
