POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
27 
Rose! for the banquet gathered, and the bier: 
Rose! coloured now by human hope or pain; 
Surely where death is not—nor change nor fear, 
Yet may we meet thee, Joy’s own flower, again! 
Mrs. Hemans. 
THE LILY. 
i. 
“ Consider the Lilies of the field how they grow.” 
Matt. vi. 23. 
Sweet nursling of the vernal skies, 
Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew; 
What more than magic in you lies, 
To fill the heart’s fond view ? 
In childhood’s sports, companions gay, 
In sorrow on life’s downward way, 
How soothing! in our last decay, 
Memorials prompt and true. 
Relics ye are of Eden’s bowers, 
As pure, as fragrant, and as fair, 
As when ye crowned the sunshine hours. 
Of happy wanderers there. 
Fallen all beside — the world of life 
How is it stained with fear and strife ! 
In reason’s world what storms are rife, 
With passion’s rage and glare! 
