
The Poetry of Flowers. 




























Bloom, gentle flower ! 
Lover of the night, 
Sought by wind and shower, 
Fondled by the night ! 
Fade, gentle flower ! 
All thy white leaves close ; 
Having shone thy beauty, 
Time ‘tis for repose. 
Die, gentle flower, 
In the silent sun ! 
So—all pangs are over, 
All thy tasks are done! 
Day hath no more glory, 
Though he soars so high ; 
Thine is all man’s story— 
Live—and love—and die! 

THE LILY AND THE ROSE. 
BY COWPER. 
THE nymph must lose her female friend, 
If more admired than she— 
But where will fierce contention end, 
If flowers can disagree? 
Within the garden’s peaceful scene 
Appeared two lovely foes, 
Aspiring to the rank of queen— 
The Lily and the Rose. 
The Rose soon reddened into rage, 
And, swelling with disdain, 
Appealed to many a poet's page 
To prove her right to reign. 

