English poem
The Water-Lily
by Robert Nichols (1893–1944)
The Lily floated white and red, Pouring its scent up to the sun; The rapt sun floating overhead Watched no such other one.
None marked it as it spread abroad And beautifully learned to cease: But Beauty is its own reward, Being a form of Peace.
1913.
DEEM YOU THE ROSES....
Deem you the roses taste no pleasure Unfolding hour by hour Toward, through starlit peace and sunny leisure, Their sharpest moment, when they dower This great green world, this rustling place, Active in music, light, and grace, With their hid hearts, their golden treasure, Odours so deep they overpower?
See how, hazed in the sunny weather, The silken roses swim, Nodding heads frail as a high cloud's feather, Expressing Joy in Beauty's Hymn. And, hark! from many a hidden face Echoes I hear through silver space: The Morning Stars that sing together, And the delighting Seraphim!
LAWFORD, Early Summer, 1916.