Classic Poem

O ‘Vergine del Giglio,’
O Lily of all lilies white,
Like fairest flakes of moonlit snow,
Thy petals gleam through earth's dim night:
Upon thy golden anthers shine
The starbeams chaste, the dewdrops pure;
And in thy bright corolla's shrine,
The precious pollen sleeps secure.

How rare, how subtile thy perfume—
The essence of all virgin bliss;
How delicate thy maiden bloom—
The leaves the Spirit joyed to kiss;
Sweet Lily, in our souls restore
The pure, primeval Paradise,
The fragrance of lost Eden's shore,
The blest aroma of the skies.

Ah, dreams of thee are like those birds
Which round the South-Sea islands float,
And o'er the waters brood and brood,
With many a soft and plaintive note;
For they upon the waves distil
An oil which soothes the roughest seas—
And thoughts of thee, sweet Queen, can still
The rudest passions into peace.

O fair, O pure, O sinless Maid,
Dear ‘Vergine del Giglio.’
No soul hath ever sought thine aid,
And been rejected in its woe;
The saints may clasp thy stem of light,
Drink dews and perfumes from thy vase—
O Lily of all lilies white,
Allure us, sinners, unto grace.