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The lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me.
The lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me.
And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.
And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.
I wish I were the lily's leaf
To fade upon that bosom warm,
Content to wither, pale read more
I wish I were the lily's leaf
To fade upon that bosom warm,
Content to wither, pale and brief,
The trophy of thy paler form.
And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the
field, how they grow; they toil not, read more
And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the
field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:
And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was
not arrayed like one of these.
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
O lovely lily clean,
O lily springing green,
O lily bursting white,
Dear lily read more
O lovely lily clean,
O lily springing green,
O lily bursting white,
Dear lily of delight,
Spring in my heart agen
That I may flower to men.
Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power
Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hushed hour,
read more
Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power
Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hushed hour,
Than yours, ye Lilies! chosen thus and graced!
But lilies, stolen from grassy mold,
No more curled state unfold,
Translated to a vase of gold;
read more
But lilies, stolen from grassy mold,
No more curled state unfold,
Translated to a vase of gold;
In burning throne though they keep still
Serenities unthawed and chill.
Is not this lily pure?
What fuller can procure
A white so perfect, spotless clear
read more
Is not this lily pure?
What fuller can procure
A white so perfect, spotless clear
As in this flower doth appear?