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POETRY OF FLOWERS, 
THE LILY. 
THERE is a pale and modest flower, 
In garb of green array’d, 
That decks the rustic maiden’s bower, 
And blossoms in the glade: 
Though other flowers around me bloom, 
In gaudy splendour drest, 
Filling the air with rich perfume, 
I love the Lily best. 
I see the tulip’s gorgeous hue, 
And sun-flower’s crown of gold 
I see the rose and woodbine too 
Their scented leaves unfold : 
Though they adorn the gay parterre, 
T love them not so well 
As the drooping Lily, frail and fair, 
That grows in shady dell, 
THE CHILD'S GARDEN. 
BENEATH the budding lilacs, 
A little maiden sighed— 
The first flower in her garden, 
That very morn, had died. 








