F0ET11Y OF FLOWERS. 
29 
What care ye now, if winter's storm 
Sweep ruthless o’er each silken form? 
Christ’s blessing at your heart is warm, 
Ye fear no vexing mood. 
Alas! of thousand bosoms kind, 
That daily court you and caress^ 
How few the happy secret find 
Of your calm loveliness ! 
Live for to-day ! to-morrow’s light 
To-morrow’s cares shall bring to sight; 
Go, sleep like closing flowers at night, 
And Heaven thy morn shall bless. 
Keisle. 
THE LILY, 
n. 
Look, on that flower—the daughter of the vale, 
The M edicean statue of the shade! 
Her limbs of modest beauty, aspect pale, 
Are but by her ambrosial breath betrayed. 
There, half in elegant relief displayed, 
She standeth to our gaze, half shrinking shuns; 
Folding her green scarf, like a bashful maid, 
Around, to screen her from her suitor suns ; 
Not all her many sweets she lavisheth at once. 
i 
