The Message Of The Lilies

My soul and I went walking Beneath the moon of spring; The lilies pale were talking, We heard them murmuring.

From dimly moonlit places They thrust long throats of white, And lifted fairy faces Of fragrant snow and light.

Their language was an essence, Yet clear as any bird’s; And from it grew a presence, As music grows from words.

A spirit born of silence And chastity and dew Among Elysian islands Were not more white to view.

A spirit born of fire And holiness and snow, Within the Heaven’s desire, Were not more pure to know.

He smiled among them, lifting Pale hands of prayer and peace-- And through the moonlight, drifting, Came words to me like these:--

“We are His lilies, lilies, Whose praises here we sing! We are the lilies, lilies Of Christ our Lord and King!”