Home of Peace and Purity
In the little room where the day was dying,
Children bend above their books, their mother at her toil;
And on the little table within the lamplight lying
There was set a spray of lilies snowy from the soil.
Like a peaceful vase of purity, the dwelling,—
“Here there is no touch of life upon its troubled way!”—
So the snowy lilies, fresh and pure are telling,
This is what their subtle perfume to young hearts would say.
Children bend above their books, their mother at her toil;
And on the little table within the lamplight lying
There was set a spray of lilies snowy from the soil.
Like a peaceful vase of purity, the dwelling,—
“Here there is no touch of life upon its troubled way!”—
So the snowy lilies, fresh and pure are telling,
This is what their subtle perfume to young hearts would say.
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