The Splendor of Lilies

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, rare as the splendor of lilies,
And sweet as the violets’ breath,
Comes the jubilant morning of Easter,
The triumph of life over death;
And fresh from the earth’s quickened bosom
Full baskets of flowers we bring,
And scatter their satin-soft petals
To carpet a path for our King.

 

In the countless green blades of the meadow,
The sheen of the daffodils’ gold,
In the tremulous blue on the mountains,
The opaline mist on the wold,
In the tinkle of brooks through the pasture,
The river’s strong sweep to the sea,
Are signs of the day that is passing
In gladness to you and to me.

 

Oh, dawn, in thy splendor of lilies,
Thy fluttering violet breath,
Oh, jubilant morning of Easter,
Thou triumph of life over death!
Then fresh from the earth’s quickened bosom
Full baskets of flowers we bring,
And scatter their satin-soft petals
To carpet a path for our King.