Unfold thy robes of purest white, 
Unsullied from thy darksome grave, 
And thy soft petals’ silvery light 
In the mild breeze unfettered wave. 
So Faith shall seek the lowly dust 
Where humble Sorrow loves to lie, 
And bid her thus her hopes entrust, 
And watch with patient, cheerful eye; 
And bear the long, cold, wintry night, 
And bear her own degraded doom, 
And wait till heaven’s reviving light, 
Eternal spring! shall burst the gloom. 
When and by whom this lily was introduced 
into England we cannot ascertain; we have, 
however, reason to believe that it was amongst 
the earliest exotics that graced our gardens, 
and, perhaps, it was brought from the Holy 
Land by some of the Crusaders, as it is no¬ 
ticed by Chaucer in armorial bearings. 
Upon his crest he bore a tour, 
And therein stiked a lily flour. 
