Floral Poetry. 
Languid and dying seems the purple flower, 
Fainting through heat, low hangs her drooping head; 
But if revived by a soft falling shower, 
Again her lively beauties she doth spread, 
And with new pride her silken leaves display; 
And while the sun doth now more gently play, 
Lays out her swelling bosom to the smiling day. 
Giles Fletcher. 
I SEND THE LILIES GIVEN TO ME. 
V SEND the Lilies given to me, 
A Though, long before thy hand they touch, 
I know that they must withered be ; 
But yet reject them not as such : 
For I have cherished them as dear, 
Because they yet may meet thine eye, 
And guide thy soul to mine even here, 
When thou behold’st them drooping nigh, 
And know’st them gathered by the Rhine, 
And offered from my heart to thine ! 
The river nobly foams and flows, 
The charm of this enchanted ground, 
And all its thousand turns disclose 
Some fresher beauty varying round; 
The haughtiest breast its wish might bound, 
Through life to dwell delighted here ; 
Nor could on earth a spot be found 
To nature and to me so dear. 
Could thy dear eyes, in following mine, 
Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine ? 
Byron. 
