Classic Poem

They grow about the city
Very beautiful and bright,
But the angels sigh for pity
Of the lilies of the night.

Among them some are stately,
And some are frail and slight,
But the angels pity greatly
All the lilies of the night.

For wantons come and tear them
Where they grow for God's delight:
They wound, but will not wear them,
So they wither in the night.

And men are hard and trample
On the fallen ones of night,
Though the sacred sweet Example
Did not turn away or smite.

Father, in great compassion,
Look from Thy throne of light;
Thou lovest Who didst fashion
The lilies of the night.