


116 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Memory and Faith, and Love so deep, 
No earthly storm can reach it more— 
Affection that hath ceased to weep, 
These flourish in tly bosom’s core. 
Spare then the flowers! With gentle tread 
Draw near, remembering what thou art, 
For blossoms sacred to the dead, 
Are ever springing in thy heart. 
THE WATER-LILY. 
BURTHENED with a cureless sorrow, 
Came I to the river deep ; 
Weary, hopeless of the morrow, 
Seeking but a place to weep; 
Sparkling onwards, full of gladness, 
Each sun-crested wavelet flew, 
Mocking my deep-hearted sadness, 
Till I sickened at the view. 
Then I left the sunshine golden 
For the gloomy willow-shade, 
Desolate and unbeholden, 
There my fainting limbs I laid. 
And I saw a water-lily 
Resting in its trembling bed, 
On the drifting waters chilly, 
With its petals white outspread, 
