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POETRY OF FLOWERS, 
‘ Wherefore raise thy head so high, 
Since not half so fair as I ? 
Sure all the magic charms that hover 
O’er the lips of maiden fair, 
In my bosom’s depths the lover. 
Fondly seeketh, findeth there : 
On her dewy lips repose 
All the glories of the Eose!’ 
The Lily turned to speak, soft smiling 
With a proud, yet gentle grace. 
For well she knew the charm beguiling 
Of her pure and virgin face ; 
‘The whiteness of the maiden’s breast, 
Of beauty is the surest test. ’ 
That moment, through the garden boundin 
Comes the treasure of my life ; 
As light they hear her footfall sounding. 
Ceased each angry word of strife. 
The lovely flowers she stands before, 
And they are sisters evermore ! 
Her fair young cheek, where lilies, roses, 
In fast friendship ever bloom," 
To the rival flowers discloses. 
In beauty’s garden both have room ; 
Each declares, from envy free. 
None so beautiful as she ! 
