
50 POETRY OF 
I sat by the lily’s bell, 
als And watched it many a day ; 
The leaves, that rose in a flowing swell 
Grew faint and dim, then drooped and fell, 
| And the flower had flown away. 
i I looked where the leaves were laid, 
I In withering paleness, by, 
. And, as gloomy thoughts stole on me, said 
ao There is many a sweet and blooming maid 
kt Who will soon as dimly die. 
hi PERCIVAL. 
—_—- 
YEW AND CYPRESSE. 
j Both you two have 
Relation to the grave ; 
And where 
I shall be made 
Ere long a fleeting shade ; 
Pray come 
And doe some honor to my tomb. 
The fun’rale trump sounds, you are there. 



















