

38 THE POETKY OF FLOWERS. 
THE LILY. 
J. H. WIFFEN. 
Loox on that flower—the daughter of the vale 
The Medicean statue of the shade! 
Her limbs of modest beauty, aspect pale, 
Are but by her ambrosial breath betray’d. 
There, half in elegant relief display’d, 
She standeth to our gaze, half-shrinking shuns; 
Folding her green scarf like a bashful maid 
Around, to screen her from her suitor suns, 
Not all her many sweets she lavisheth at once. 
Lock’d in the twilight of depending boughs, 
Where night and day commingle, she dothshoot, 
Where nightingales repeat their marriage vows; 
First by retiring, wins our curious foot, 
Then charms us by her loveliness to suit 
Our contemplation to her lovely lot ; 
Her gloom, leaf, blossom, fragrance form dispute 
Which shall attract most belgards to the spot, 
And loveliest her array who fain would rest un 
sought. 
Her gloom, the aisle of heavenly solitude ; 
Her flower, the vestal nun who there abideth ; 
Her breath, that of celestials meekly woo’d 
From heaven; her leaf, the holy veil which 
hideth ; 
Her form, the shrine where purity resideth ; 
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