


























144 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
CAPTIVE. Aen 
Thy crimson bud I duly prize And 


In outer robe of green ; An 
For this thou’rt dear in maiden’s Eyer) 
As gold and jewels sheen. 
Thy wreath adorns the fairest brow, They 
And yet the flower—it is not thou, Th 
Whom my still wishes mean. He 
LILY. ta! 
The little rose has cause for pride, hal 
And upwards aye will soar ; his 
ht Yet am I held by many a bride 
| The rose’s wreath before. 
i And beats thy bosom faithfully, Ist 
| And art thou true, and pure as I, A 
Thou’lt prize the lily more. lity 
vA | CAPTIVE. My 
aH I call myself both chaste and pure, fori 
i i| And pure from passions low ; Thy h 
Ny : And yet these walls my limbs immure My 
Hn | In loneliness and woe. 
l i Though thou dost seem, in white array ¢, 
Hy Wi Like many a pure and beauteous maid, They 
| i i One dearer thing I know. 80, 
| | PINK. ll ta 
And dearer I, the pink, must be, To 
And me thou sure dost choose, logy 
Or else the gard’ner ne’er for me le, 
Such watchful care would use; 

