102 
FLORAL POESY. 
Winds may blow, and skies may darken, 
Lain may pour, and waves may swell ; 
Deep beneath the changeful eddies 
Lily roots are fastened well. 
THE CLOSING LILY. 
TENNYSON. 
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, 
And slips into the bosom of the lake ; 
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip 
Into my bosom, and be lost in me. 
A DIALOGUE FROM SOUL GARDENING. 
DORA GREENWELL, 
“Thou bearest flowers within Thy hand, 
Thou wearest on Thy breast 
A flower ; now tell me which of these 
Thy flowers Thou lovest best; 
Which wilt Thou gather to Thy heart 
Beloved above the rest ? ” 
“ Should I not love my flowers, 
My flowers that bloom and pine, 
Unseen, unsought, unwatched for hours 
By any eye but Mine ? 
Should I not love my flowers ? 
I love my Lilies tall, 
My Marigold with constant eyes, 
Each flower that blows, each flower that dies 
To Me, I love them alL 
