THE AWAKENING OF THE LILIES.
Beneath the placid waters
A lily bulb had birth;
It slept in sweet reliance
In arms of mother earth.
In home beneath the waters,
It slept in calm repose;
With sweetness of the lily,
And beauty of the rose.
One morn the Sun looked downward,
And loving words he spake.
The lily bulb awakened
From dreams, beneath the lake.
A little bud shot upward
To meet the sun-god’s call,
It sent forth all its fragrance
Its lover to enthrall.
It sprang from out the waters,
And donned its pure white gown.
No sin defiled its beauty,
Its virtue was its crown.
The little bud then blossomed,—
So fragrant, pure and sweet,
The air was filled with fragrance,
And many stopped to greet
The pure white lily blossom
That on the water lay;
A ruthless hand then plucked it,
But threw it soon away.—
It faded, and then withered;
The earth was not its home;
It missed the sparkling water,
Nor wished from it to roam
Upon life’s turbid waters
A human flower was born.
As pure as water-lily,
With beauty of the dawn.
’Twas in a vine-clad cottage
Close by the lily’s home;
Where dwelt this pure young maiden,
Nor wished she e’er to roam.
To her there came a lover—
But soon he cast aside
The crushed and faded blossom
Who was his promised bride.
In lone, and dreary hovel
A weeping woman lay.
No loving hand to tend her,
And naught but shadows gray.—
She sinned in loving, trusting,
And what was her reward?
Dishonored, and forsaken,
No friend had she but God.
And in this lonely hovel
A little child was born.—
A little human lily
First saw the light of dawn.
Unheralded its coming,
Unwelcome was its birth.
This little human lily
Was born from out the earth.
It came without love’s greeting,
Its death caused not one tear;
’Twas born into conditions
That cost its mother dear.—
This child was pure and holy,
Though it was born of sin.—
Its heavenly father loved it,
So took it from the din
Of earthly cares and sorrows.
He took the mother too.
The child is with her sleeping,
No tears their grave bedew.
Together in one coffin
The human lilies lie;
Dishonored, and forsaken,
They blossomed but to die.
They lie upon the hillside.—
Some pitying hand now gave
A pure, white lily blossom,
To deck the outcasts’ grave.