


125 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 



























‘Wherefore raise thy head so high, 
Since not half so fair as I? 
Sure all the magic charms that hover 
O’er the lips of maiden fair, 
In my bosom’s depth’s the lover, { 
Fondly seeketh, findeth there: 
On her dewy lips repose 
All the glories of the Rose p 
The Lily turned to speak, soft smiling 
With a proud, yet gentle grace, 
For well she knew the charm beguiling 
Of her pure and virgin face ; 
‘The whiteness of the maiden’s breast, 
Of beauty is the surest test.’ 
—" = 
That moment, through the garden bounding, 
Comes the treasure of my life; 
As light they hear her footfall sounding, 
Ceased each angry word of strife. 
The lovely flowers she stands before, 
And they are sisters evermore ! 
Ler fair young cheek, where lilies, roses, 
In fast friendship ever bloom, 
To the rival flowers discloses, 
In beauty’s garden both have room : 
Each declares, from envy free, 
None so beautiful as she ! 

