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Like the lily
That once was mistress of the field and flourished,
I'll hang my head and read more
Like the lily
That once was mistress of the field and flourished,
I'll hang my head and perish.
"Look to the lilies how they grow!"
'Twas thus the Saviour said, that we,
Even in the read more
"Look to the lilies how they grow!"
'Twas thus the Saviour said, that we,
Even in the simplest flowers that blow,
God's ever-watchful care might see.
Is not this lily pure?
What fuller can procure
A white so perfect, spotless clear
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Is not this lily pure?
What fuller can procure
A white so perfect, spotless clear
As in this flower doth appear?
Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
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Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer;
Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill.
God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
But lilies, stolen from grassy mold,
No more curled state unfold,
Translated to a vase of gold;
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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.
Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed, fresh lily,
And whiter than the sheets!
Cytherea,
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed, fresh lily,
And whiter than the sheets!
And lilies white, prepared to touch
The whitest thought, nor soil it much,
Of dreamer turned to read more
And lilies white, prepared to touch
The whitest thought, nor soil it much,
Of dreamer turned to lover.
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
I like not lady-slippers,
Not yet the sweet-pea blossoms,
Not yet the flaky roses,
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I like not lady-slippers,
Not yet the sweet-pea blossoms,
Not yet the flaky roses,
Red or white as snow;
I like the chaliced lilies,
The heavy Eastern lilies,
The gorgeous tiger-lilies,
That in our garden grow.