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.

For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.

For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.

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?

And the wand-like lily which lifted up,
As a Maenad, its moonlight-coloured cup,
Till the fiery star, read more

And the wand-like lily which lifted up,
As a Maenad, its moonlight-coloured cup,
Till the fiery star, which is its eye,
Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky.

And the stately lilies stand
Fair in the silvery light,
Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer;
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And the stately lilies stand
Fair in the silvery light,
Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer;
Their pure breath sanctifies the air,
As its fragrance fills the night.

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.

Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew
Shut in a lily's golden core.

Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew
Shut in a lily's golden core.

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

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

But who will watch my lilies,
When their blossoms open white?
By day the sun shall be read more

But who will watch my lilies,
When their blossoms open white?
By day the sun shall be sentry,
And the moon and the stars by night!