THE DEATH OF THE LILY.
"I shall lie no more where the winds bend low
The reeds that mock when the forests roar;
Where the crowding waves with a measured flow
Come rippling up to the mossy shore,"
Woe for the lily! her sisters gone,
She bent to her mirror of crystal alone.
The reeds that mock when the forests roar;
Where the crowding waves with a measured flow
Come rippling up to the mossy shore,"
Woe for the lily! her sisters gone,
She bent to her mirror of crystal alone.
"I shall sleep no more when the bright wave comes
To woo my head to its heaving breast;
And smile no more when the white swan plumes
His ruffled wing by my tossing crest."
Woe for the lily! the winds came rude,
And her wan lips bowed to the mantling flood.
To woo my head to its heaving breast;
And smile no more when the white swan plumes
His ruffled wing by my tossing crest."
Woe for the lily! the winds came rude,
And her wan lips bowed to the mantling flood.
