Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/128



, you tell me of a valley Where the pure white lily blows, In a shadowy woodland alley; Lead me to their summer snows! Oh, lead me where the lily blows! I would wear it in my life, Weary of world-soil and strife. Lead me where the lily blows.

Angels planted in my garden, A vain pleasance of ill weeds, One white Lily, and the Warden With sweet air from heaven feeds. Ah! one night my lily died, And I mourned him night and day; "For the bosom of My Bride," The Lord saith, "he was borne away." Then I wandered through the world To find the flower-de-luce I lost, And my wings will ne'er be furled, Summer-poised, or tempest-tost,