Classic Poem

A lily alone in a border of Roses:
I saw her lean forward her beautiful head;
And the breezes were rich with the breath of her longing,
Sweet grief wafted o'er to the Lily-bed.

There grew the bright Lilies, the fresh, golden Lilies;
They caught the warm light in each exquisite flower:
Did they catch the faint fragrance the breeze wafted over?
Did they dream of their mate in the Roses' bower?

Alas! the meek stranger, alone 'mid her rivals!
I waited the end with a pitying sigh:
I saw her droop forward, away from the Roses,
And lean toward the Lilies, and wither, and die.

But when the last petal had faded and fallen
Among the soft Rose-leaves, blush, amber, and red,
Did the free Lily-spirit escape to her sisters?
Did the breeze waft her o'er to the Lily-bed?