To Lily.
Why does the lily hang its head1
As if its happiness had fled ?2
What sadd’ning thought depresses3
The flower that poets love to praise,4
That in a thousand tender lays5
Inspires charmed addresses ?6
The lily sees her namesake’s face,7
Its sweetness, beauty, freshness, grace,8
And jealous thoughts awaken !9
None of its race was fair as this10
Since, by the breeze’s gentle kiss,11
Their petals first were shaken.12
The violet notes with glad surprise13
Shades of its colours in her eyes—14
Sweet eyes ! beneath whose lashes15
Such depths of tenderness appear,16
Thoughts sweet to charm, or bright to cheer,17
As in them fancy flashes !18
The rose its fairest hues has lent19
To deck her fairer cheek ; its scent20
Around her gracious presence21
Seems to be wafted on the air,22
A subtle fragrance, past compare,23
Love’s all-pervading essence !24
The wild flow’rs on their native green25
All hail my Lily as their queen,26
And, as she passes o’er them,27
Bend to caress her little feet,28
So dainty, delicate, and sweet—29
No wonder they adore them !30
Source as she is of all delight,31
A being made to make more bright32
A world where joys are fleeting,33
One charm shines out ’bove all the rest—34
There in her gentle, tender breast35
A heart of gold is beating !36