What is that, so white and slender,
Hidden, almost, by the splendor
Of a great white water lily,
Floating on the river there?
’Tis a hand stretched up toward Heaven,
As, when we would be forgiven,
We reach out our hands, imploring,
In an agony of prayer.
Tremble, reeds, and moan and shiver,
At your feet, in the still river,