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Poem	SEE, dear, what thy lover brings; 'Tis the flower with the white wings. Buoyed upon the quiet stream In the spring it lay adream. Homelike to bestow this guest, Lodge it, dear one, in thy breast; There its leaves the secret keep Of a wave both still and deep. Child, beware the tarn-fed stream; Danger, danger, there to dream! Though the sprite pretends to sleep, And above the lilies peep. Child, thy bosom is the stream; Danger, danger, there to dream! Though above the lilies peep, And the sprite pretends to sleep.
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