84 
HOLT FLOWERS. 
And yield we unto Nature aught 
Of loftier, or of holier thought, 
Than they who gave sublimest power 
To the small spring, and simple flower ? 
THE WATER LILIES. 
There’s a spring in the woods by my sunny 
home, 
Afar from the dark sea’s tossing foam ; 
Oh ! the fall of that fountain is sweet to hear, 
As a song from the shore to the sailor’s ear ! 
And the sparkle which up to the sun it throws, 
Through the feathery fern and the olive boughs, 
And the gleam on its path as its steals away 
Into deeper shade from the sultry day ; 
And the large Water-lilies that o’er its bed, 
Their pearly leaves to the soft light spread ; 
These haunt me ; I dream of that bright spring’s 
flow, 
I thirst for its rills like a wounded roe. 
Mrs. Remans. 
