288
The death of the lily.
"I shall watch no more when by midnight's ray
The wave-sprites garland their yellow hair;
Nor see them leap through the frolic spray
To wreath my buds with the star-beam there."
Woe for the lily! her head drooped low,
And her sweet breath mixed with the water's flow.
The wave-sprites garland their yellow hair;
Nor see them leap through the frolic spray
To wreath my buds with the star-beam there."
Woe for the lily! her head drooped low,
And her sweet breath mixed with the water's flow.
"I shall lift, oh never, my chalice of pearl
To the rosy lips of the morn again;
To the blush of the day when her pinions furl,
To the silent dew or the gentle rain."
Woe for the lily! her reign was past,
And her white leaves whirled to the angry blast.
To the rosy lips of the morn again;
To the blush of the day when her pinions furl,
To the silent dew or the gentle rain."
Woe for the lily! her reign was past,
And her white leaves whirled to the angry blast.
