56 THE POETRY OP FLOWERS. 
But what if the stormy cloud should come, 
And ruffle the silver sea ? 
Would he turn his eye from the distant sKy, 
To smile on a thing like thee ? 
O, no! fair Lily, he will not send 
One ray from his far-off throne ; 
The winds shall blow and the waves shall flow, 
And thou wilt be left alone. 
There is not a leaf on the mountain-top, 
Nor a drop of evening dew, 
Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore, 
Nora pearl in the waters blue, 
That he has not cheer’d with his fickle smile, 
And warm’d 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 turn’d to the skies afar, 
And bared her breast to the trembling ray 
That shot from the rising star; 
The cloud came over the darken’d sky, 
And over the waters wide ; 
She look’d in vain through the beating rain. 
And sank in the stormy tide. 
