
F THe 
budy 
Dreath, 





















THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
LILIES. 
We are lilies fair, 
‘The flower of virgin light ; 
Nature held us forth, and said, 
‘**Lo! my thoughts of white ’ 


Ever since then, angels 
Hold us in their hands ; 
You may see them where they take 
In pictures their sweet stands. 

Like the garden’s angels 
Also do we seem; 
And not the less for being crown’d 
With a golden dream. | 
Could you see around us 
The enamour’d air, 
You would see it pale with bliss 
To hold a thing so fair, 
POPPIES. 
We are slumbering poppies, 
Lords of Lethe downs, 
Some awake, and some asleep, 
Sleeping in our crowns. 
What perchance our dreams may know, 
Let cur serious beauty show. 
6 


