378 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
Remember, remember, thou silly one, 
How fast will thy Summer glide, 


And wilt thou wither a virgin pale, 

Or flourish a blooming bride ? 
“© 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 shall come, 
And ruffle the silver sea? 
Would he turn his eye to the distant sky 
To smile on a thing like thee ? 
O no, fair Lily, he will not send 

One ray from his far-off throne ; 
The winds shall 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 on 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 ? 



