THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
55 
THE STAR AND THE WATER-LILY. 
BY O. W. HOLMES. 
The Sun stepp’d down from his golden throne. 
And lay in the silent sea, 
And the Lily had folded her satin leaves. 
For a sleepy thing was she; 
What is the Lily dreaming of? 
Why crisp the waters blue ? 
See, see, she is lifting her varnish’d lid ! 
Her white leaves are glistening through! 
The Rose is cooling his burning cheek 
In the lap of the breathless tide ; 
The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair, 
That would lie by the Rose’s side; 
He would love her better than all the rest, 
And he would be fond and true ; 
But the Lily unfolded her weary lids, 
And look’d at the sky so blue. 
Remember, remember, thou silly one, 
How fast will thy summer glide, 
And wilt thou wither a virgin pale, 
Or flourish a blooming bride ? 
“ O, the Rose is old, and thorny, and cold, 
And he lives on earth,” said she; 
‘ But the Star is fair and he lives in the air, 
And he 6hall my bridegroom bo.” 
