


THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 

























| 56 
| But what if the stormy cloud should come, 
| \| And ruffle the silver sea ? 
Would he turn his eye from the distant sky, 
| | To smile on a thing like thee ? i 
| | O, no! fair Lily, he will not send | 
One ray from his far-off throne 5 
i | The winds shall blow and the waves shall flow, 
|| And thou wilt be left alone. | 
| There is not a leaf on the mountain-top, 
i} | Nor a drop of evening dew, 
Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore, 
Nor a pearl in the waters blue, 
That he has not cheer’d with his fickle smile 
And warm’d with his faithless beam,—*= 
And will he be true to a pallid flower, | 
| That floats on the quiet stream ? 


Alas, for the Lily ! she would not heed, 
But turn’d to the skies afar, 
And bared her breast to the trembling ray 
That shot from the rising star ; | 
The cloud came over the darken’d sky, | 
And over the waters wide ; 
She look’d in vain through the beating rain, | 
And sank in the stormy tide. 




