ME ADO W LILIES. 



Winds across the uplands flying, 



Sink in whispers at her feet, 

 Murmuring in the grass, and dying 



Where her beauty stands complete ; 

 Not to heaven her head she raises, 



Fairest flower along the dell, 

 But to meet the upturned daisies 



Low she droops her dusky bell ! 



Young with morning s first awaking, 



Languid thro the burning noon, 

 With a warmth and fullness breaking 



Thro the round of life and tune ; 

 Half concealed her sumptuous beauty, 



Grave yet gracious is her mien, 

 In the close, oppressive stillness 



Folding all the meadow s green. 



Clustered lilies in the shadows, 

 Lapt in golden ease they stand, 



Rarest flower in all the meadows, 

 Richest flower in all the land; 

 6 4 



