Floral Poetry. 
THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
F AIR flower, that, lapt in lowly glade, 
Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade, 
Than whom the vernal gale 
None fairer wakes, on bank or spray, 
Our England’s Lily of the May, 
Our Lily of the Vale ! 
Art thou that “ Lily of the field,” 
Which, when the Saviour sought to shield 
The heart from blank despair, 
He showed to our mistrustful kind, 
An emblem of the thoughtful mind, 
Of God’s paternal care? 
Not this, I trow; for brighter shine 
To the warm skies of Palestine 
Those children of the East: 
There, when mild Autumn’s earlv rain 
Descends on parched Esdrela’s plain 
And Tabor’s oak-girt crest, 
More frequent than the host of night, 
Those earth-born stars, as sages write, 
Their brilliant discs unfold; 
Lit symbol of imperial state, 
Their sceptre-seeming forms elate, 
And crowns of burnished gold. 
But not the less, sweet spring-tide’s flower, 
Dost thou display the Maker’s power, 
His skill and handiwork ; 
