POETRY OF FLOWERS. 83 
THE LILY. 
TuE stream with languid murmur creeps 
In Lumin’s flowery vale : 
Beneath the dew the lily weeps, 
Slow waving to the gale. 
“ Cease, restless gale !” it seems to say, 
“Nor wake me with thy sighing ! 
The honours of my vernal day 
On rapid wings are flying. 
“ To-morrow shall the traveller come, 
Who late beheld me blooming ; 
His searching eye shall vainly roam 
The dreary vale of Lumin,” 
ee 
O, BONNIE WAS YON ROSY BRIER. 
O, BONNIE was yon rosy brier 
That blooms so far frae haunt o? man ; 
And bonnie she, and ah, how dear ! 
It shaded frae the e’enin’ sun. 
Yon rosebuds in the morning dew, 
How pure amang the leaves sae green $ 

