The Rose and the Lily

A red rose in the garden sighed
To be the south wind's happy bride, 
And when the rover wooing came 
Her heart with love was all aflame. 
With honeyed word and soft caress 
He won his bride of loveliness, 
And all her leaves so warm and fair 
He scattered, ah! I know not where.

A stately lily, standing near, 
From every wooer turned her ear 
With dignity that nearly froze,
As though to chide the foolish rose. 
Nor came there lover with the art 
To charm her cold, unfeeling heart; 
She glanced disdainfully at them 
Until she withered on her stem.

Oh, mingled joys that blight and bless! 
Which knew the truer happiness, — 
The lily pure with heart of frost,
Or warm, red rose that loved and lost?