You May Also Like / View all maxioms
"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
read more
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
read more
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;
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.
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!
We are Lilies fair,
The flower of virgin light;
Nature held us forth, and said,
read more
We are Lilies fair,
The flower of virgin light;
Nature held us forth, and said,
"Lo! my thoughts of white."
- Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),
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.
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.
I like not lady-slippers,
Not yet the sweet-pea blossoms,
Not yet the flaky roses,
read more
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.