My Lily
ON THE VIRGIN'S BOSOM .
The sun was white in all the streets of Florence,
His splendor burned upon the bridge and river,
While fate rained down her pestilence in torrents,
Bereaving me forever.
Nay; not forever! on the Virgin's bosom
I see the emblem of my sainted daughter —
She holds my lily in perpetual blossom —
I find her where I sought her.
Close to her heart, with all a mother's patience,
She bears my flower, enticing me to meet her:
Dear Virgin, at thy son's appointed Stations
I kneel, and kneel, and climb,
That I at last may greet her.
The sun was white in all the streets of Florence,
His splendor burned upon the bridge and river,
While fate rained down her pestilence in torrents,
Bereaving me forever.
Nay; not forever! on the Virgin's bosom
I see the emblem of my sainted daughter —
She holds my lily in perpetual blossom —
I find her where I sought her.
Close to her heart, with all a mother's patience,
She bears my flower, enticing me to meet her:
Dear Virgin, at thy son's appointed Stations
I kneel, and kneel, and climb,
That I at last may greet her.
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