


THE STAR AND THE WATER-LILY, 377 

Pity me! I am she, whom man, 

Hath hated since ever the world began ; 

I soothe his brain, 

In the night of pain, 

But at morning he waketh,—and all is vain! 


Oye Star and the Wlater-Wily, 

Oliver Wendell Holmes, 

mae Sun stepped down from his golden throne, 
And lay in the silent sea; 
And the Lily had folded her satin leaves, 
For a sleepy thing was she; 
What is the Lily dreaming of 2 
Why crisp the waters blue? 





See—see, she is lifting her varnished lid 

Her white leaves are glistening through. 



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. 





