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.

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.

For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.

For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.

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.

. . . Purple lilies Dante blew
To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.

. . . Purple lilies Dante blew
To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.

"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.

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.

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.

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!