138 Floral Poetry. 
THE LILY. 
T HERE is a pale and modest flower 
In garb of green arrayed, 
That decks the rustic maiden’s bower 
And blossoms in the glade : 
Though other flowers around me bloom 
In gaudy splendour drest, 
Filling the air with rich perfume, 
I love the Lily best. 
I see the Tulip’s gorgeous hue 
And Sunflower’s crown of gold : 
I see the Rose and Woodbine too 
Their scented leaves unfold : 
Though they adorn the gay parterre, 
I love them not as well 
As the drooping Lily, frail and fair, 
That grows in shady dell. 
Anon. 
THE LILY AND THE ROSE. 
T HE snowy Lily pressed with heavy rain, 
Which fills her cup with showers up to the brink, 
The weary stalk no longer can sustain 
The head, but low beneath the burden sink. 
Or should the virgin Rose her leaves display, 
And ope her bosom to the blaze of day, 
Down drops her double ruff, and all her charms decay. 
