Page:Flowers of Loveliness.pdf/14



But the flower that we choose in our tresses to bind,— How long are those tresses when flung on the wind!— Is the lily, that ﬂoats on the shadowy tide, With a white cup that treasures its gold-dust inside.

The pearls that lie under the ocean are white, Like a bride’s sunny weeping, whose tears are half light, And pure as the fall of the snow's early showers; But they are not more fair nor more pure than these flowers.

We float down the wave when the waters are red With the blushes that morning around her hath shed; And we wring from our long hair the damps of the night, The dew-drops that shine on the grass are less bright.

But alone, in the night, with the planets above, Or the silvery moon, is the hour that we love; Cold, pale is the light, and it suits with our doom, For our heart has no warmth, and our cheek has no bloom.

The night wind then bears our sad singing along; Ah! wo unto him who shall listen the song! There is love in the music that ﬂoats on the air; But the mortal who seeks us seeks death and despair.