Author Robert Loveman Out of the turbid pool of Night, Out of the storm and gloom, Morn, like a lily, pure and white, Blossoms within my room. Out of our bosom's hopeless Night, Out of the rack and ruth, Perchance may spring to life and light, Lilies of love and truth. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments