

LILY, 165 
The Rose is cooling his burning cheek 
In the lap of the breathless tide ;— 
The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair, 
That would lie by the Rose’s side ; 
He would love her better than all the rest, 
And he would be fond and true ;— 
But the Lily unfolded her weary lids, 
And looked at the sky so blue. 
Remember, remember, thou silly one, 
How fast will thy summer glide, 
And wilt thou wither a virgin pale, 
Or fleurish a blooming bride ? 
**Qh! the Rose is old, and thorny, and cold, 
And he lives on earth,” said she; 
“‘ But the Star is fair, and he lives in the air, 
And he shall my bridegroom be.” 
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 ? 
Oh! no, fair Lily, he will not send 
One ray from far-off throne ; 
The winds shail blow, and the waves shall flow, 
And thou wilt be left alone. 
There is not a leaf on the mountain top, 
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 cheered with his fickle smile, 
And warmed with his faithless beam,— 
And will he be true to a pallid flower 
That floats on the quiet stream ? 

