The Poetry of Flowers. 
95 
The Lily’s height bespoke command, 
A fair imperial flower ; 
She seemed designed for Flora’s hand, 
The sceptre of her power. 
This civil bickering and debate 
The goddess chanced to hear ; 
And flew to save, ere yet too late, 
The pride of the parterre. 
“ Yours is,” she said, “ the noblest hue, 
And yours the statelier mien ; 
And, till a third surpasses you, 
Let each be deemed a queen.” 
Thus soothed and reconciled, both seek 
The fairest British fair ; 
The seat of empire is her cheek, 
They reign united there. 
THE VIOLET. 
BY SCOTT. 
The Violet in her greenwood bower, 
Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle, 
May boast herself the fairest flower 
In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. 
Though fair her gems of azure hue, 
Beneath the dew-drop’s weight reclining, 
I’ve seen an eye of lovelier blue, 
More sweet through watery lustre shining. 
The summer sun that dew shall dry, 
Ere yet the day be past its morrow ; 
No longer in my false love’s eye 
Remained the tear of parting sorrow. 
