

THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
BY BISHOP MANT. 
Fair flower, that, lapt in lowly glade, 
Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade, 
Than whom the vernal gale 
None fairer wakes, on bank, or spray, 
Our England’s lily of the May, 
Our lily of the vale! 
Art thou that ‘‘ Lily of the field,’’ 
Which, when the Saviour sought to shield 
The heart from blank despair, 
He show’d to our mistrustful kind, 
An emolem of the thoughtful mind 
Of God’s paternal care? 
Not this, I trow; for brighter shine 
To the warm skies of Palestine 
Those children of the [ast : 
There, when mild autumn’s early rain 
Descends on parch'd Esdrela’s plain, 
And Tabor’s oak-girt crest, 
More frequent than the host of mght, 
Those earth-born stars, as sages write, 
Their brilliant disks unfold ; 
