






LEIGH HUNT. 

Know you not our only 
Rival flower,—the human ? 
Loveliest weight on lightest foot, 
Joy-abundant woman ? 



LILIES, 
We are Lilies fair, 


The flower of virgin light; 
Nature held us forth and said, 
‘Lo! my thoughts of white.” 





Ever since then, angels 
Hold us in their hands; 
You may see them where they take 
In pictures their sweet stands. 



Like the garden’s angels 

Also do we seem, 


And not the less for being crown’d 
With a golden dream, 



Could you see around us 
The enamored air, 
You would see it pale with bliss 
To hold a thing go fair, 





