214 THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
That he has not cheered with his fickle smile, 
And warmed with his faithless beam,— 
And will he be true to a pallid flower 
That floats on the quiet stream ? 
Alas for the Lily ! she would not heed, 
But turned to the skies afar, 
And bared her breast to the trembling ray 
That shot from the rising Star; 
The cloud came over the darkened sky, 
And over the waters wide: 
She looked in vain through the beating rain, 
And sank in the stormy tide. 
THE WATER LILY. 
J. H. REYNOLDS. 
O MELON-SCENTED lily ! 
O water queen of flowers ! 
When shall I see the silver waves 
Dancing around thee, like sweet slaves 
To Beauty in its bowers; 
When shall I take an earthly part 
In honouring thy golden heart ? 
O pretty rose autumnal! 
O fairy queen of trees ! 
When may I have thy gentle buds 
Adorned with their emerald studs, 
In their green palaces; 
When see thy vernal velvet fall 
Under thy ruby coronal ? 
