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THE WATER-LILY.
Lifting alike thy head
Of placid beauty, feminine yet free,
Whether with foam or pictured azure spread
The waters be.
What is like thee, fair flower,
The gentle and the firm? thus bearing up
To the blue sky that alabaster cup,
As to the shower?
Oh! Love is most like thee,
The love of woman; quivering to the blast
Through every nerve, yet rooted deep and fast,
Midst Life's dark sea.
And Faith—O, is not faith
Like thee too, Lily, springing into light,
Still buoyantly, above the billows' might,
Through the storm's breath?
