Lilies. 
By Hunt, James Henry Leigh. 


We are lilies fair,
The flower of virgin light;
Nature held us forth, and said
"Lo! my thoughts of white!"

Ever since then, angels
Hold us in their hands;
You may see them where they take
In pictures their sweet stands.

Like the garden's angels
Also do we seem,
And not the less for being crowned
With a golden dream.

Could you see around us
The enamoured air,
You would see it pale with bliss
To hold a thing so fair.