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Floral Poetry. 
THE LILY AND THE ROSE. 
T HE nymph must lose her female friend, 
If more admired than she — 
But where will fierce contention end, 
If flowers can disagree? 
Within the garden’s peaceful scene 
Appeared two lovely foes, 
Aspiring to the rank of queen— 
The Lily and the Rose. 
The Rose soon reddened into rage, 
And, swelling with disdain, 
Appealed to many a poet’s page 
To prove her right to reign. 
The Lily’s height bespoke command, 
A fair imperial flower; 
She seemed designed for Llora’s hand, 
The sceptre of her power. 
This civil bickering and debate 
The goddess chanced to hear, 
And flew to save, ere yet too late, 
The pride of the parterre. 
“ Yours is,” she said, “ the noblest hue, 
And yours the statelier mien; 
And, till a third surpasses you, 
Let each be deemed a queen.” 
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