The Lily Of The Valley
SWEETEST of the flowers a-blooming
In the fragrant vernal days
Is the Lily of the Valley
With its soft, retiring ways.
Well, you chose this humble blossom
As the nurse's emblem flower,
Who grows more like her ideal
Every day and every hour.
Like the Lily of the Valley
In her honesty and worth,
Ah, she blooms in truth and virtue
In the quiet nooks of earth.
Tho' she stands erect in honor
When the heart of mankind bleeds,
Still she hides her own deserving
In the beauty of her deeds.
In the silence of the darkness
Where no eye may see and know,
There her footsteps shod with mercy,
And fleet kindness come and go.
Not amid the sounds of plaudits,
Nor before the garish day,
Does she shed her soul's sweet perfume,
Does she take her gentle way.
But alike her ideal flower,
With its honey-laden breath,
Still her heart blooms forth its beauty
In the valley shades of death.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Laugh -- And A Moan
The brook that down the valley
So musically drips,
Flowed never half so brightly
As the light laugh from her lips.
Her face was like the lily,
Her heart was like the rose,
Her eyes were like a heaven
Where the sunlight always glows.
She trod the earth so lightly
Her feet touched not a thorn;
Her words wore all the brightness
Of a young life's happy morn.
Along her laughter rippled
The melody of joy;
She drank from every chalice,
And tasted no alloy.
Her life was all a laughter,
Her days were all a smile,
Her heart was pure and happy,
She knew not gloom nor guile.
She rested on the bosom
Of her mother, like a flower
That blooms far in a valley
Where no storm-clouds ever lower.
And -- 'Merry, merry, merry!'
Rang the bells of every hour,
And -- 'Happy, happy, happy!'
In her valley laughed the flower.
There was not a sign of shadow,
There was not a tear nor thorn,
And the sweet voice of her laughter
Filled with melody the morn.
* * * * *
Years passed -- 'twas long, long after,
And I saw a face at prayer;
There was not a sign of laughter,
There was every sign of care.
For the sunshine all had faded
From the valley and the flower,
And the once fair face was shaded
In life's lonely evening hour.
And the lips that smiled with laughter
In the valley of the morn,
In the valley of the evening
They were pale and sorrow-worn.
And I read the old, old lesson
In her face and in her tears,
While she sighed amid the shadows
Of the sunset of her years.
All the rippling streams of laughter
From our hearts and lips that flow,
Shall be frozen, cold years after,
Into icicles of woe.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Under The Shadow Of Your Wet Love
I am the rose on your bed and the lily of your sweet valley,
And alos like the apple tree in your valley!
So let me sit under the shadow of your wet love with my muse,
Because you have the eye of a dove and your beauty is beyond compare!
You are beautiful ans delightful my sweet one,
For your perfume sent out its fragrance and it came and touched my heart!
Oh fairest among women,
Behold you are very beautiful my love;
And like Pharaoh's chariots!
So come and lie with me and let me put my head between your attractive breasts.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fragrance Of Virtue Rises To The Heavens
The blissful flower landed on the earthly dirt
And rooted its seeds on the bosom of mankind.
The flower blooms only in fruitful pure heart
Which grazes its petals like one hungry hind.
Virtues are the atoms of God, the holiest one.
The more we attain it, the more we appear near
To Him, His being, Virtues and godliness anon
As our soul drenches with immortal holy tear.
The earthy flower blooms, dies in perched air
With a fragrance that melts, melts, melts away.
But the fragrant flower of Virtue is always fair,
Its fragrance rises towards heavenly stairway.
poem by Osman Gani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Through The Valley
(After James Thomson)
As I came through the Valley of Despair,
As I came through the valley, onmy sight,
More awful that the darkness of the night,
Shone glimpses of a Past that had been fair,
And memories of eyes that used to smile,
And wafts of perfume from a vanished isle,
As I came through the valley.
As I came through the valley I could see,
As I came through the valley, fair and far,
As drowning men look up and see a star,
The fading shore of my lost Used-to-be;
And like an arrow in my heart I heard
The last sad notes of Hope’s expiring bird,
As I came through the valley.
As I came through the valley desolate,
As I came through the valley, like a beam
Of lurid lightning I beheld a gleam
Of Love’s great eyes that now were full of hate.
Dear God! dear God! I could bear all but that;
But I fell down soul-stricken, dead, thereat,
As I came through the valley.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flower and Bird
Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!
poem by Supriya Mothay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flowers
She is like a flower.
I like every type of flower that populates on this earth.
But one is beautiful like yellow acacias that grows from a seed into birth.
I want to plant seeds to make a garden of a family with her.
She is a flower that is sweet as honeysuckle
We are on top of a moonflower like beatiful lovers.
She lights up my day like a sunflower.
She is nothing like spring beauty and lives life by every hour.
Her love is good like red roses she never wanted me for the money.
Her beauty is like pink lotuses because she is the bomb.
And the hatred by other girls is who she exposes.
She blooms up into my life and I wouldn't mind making her my wife.
Im like a bumble bee all I need is her love like honey.
Like Winnie pooh a honey addict and yes I'm addicted to her love.
I'm her sunlight I keep her shining bright.
She is every flower
I love day and night.
poem by Anteaus Berryhill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Margaret
I KNOW a garden where white lilies grow,
Under the grey sweet-laden apple boughs;
It is a garden where the roses blow,
And honeysuckle covers half the house.
O happy garden, do you keep the vows
Breathed in your quiet ear beneath the rose,
Or do you tell the tale to each soft wind that blows?
Across your grassy paths she used to stray,
She moved among you like a living flower,
Her beauty drank your beauty every day,
Your beauty decked her beauty every hour.
You gave her rose and lily for a dower,
With all sweet flowers and fruits your bosom bore--
She took them all--and now she comes not any more.
O garden, if you breathe such secret things
To the south wind who loves you, tell him this:
To spread the scented softness of his wings,
And seek that other garden where she is,
And bid him bear no blossom and no kiss;
Only, dear garden, tell the wind to say
How grey the world is grown since Margaret went away!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Valentines Day
She was the color of tv
Her mouth curled under like a metal snake
Although holy wood was sad
Theyd remember this as valentines day
Flies are waiting
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death
Slit our wrists and send us to heaven
The first flower after the flood
I saw that pregnant girl today
She didnt know that it was dead inside
Even though it was alive
Some of us are really born to die
Flies are waiting
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death
Slit our wrists and send us to heaven
The first flower after the flood
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Valentine's Day
She was the color of TV
her mouth curled under like a metal snake
although Holy Wood was sad
they'd remember this as Valentine's day
flies are waiting
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood
I saw that pregnant girl today
she didn't know that it was dead inside
even though it was alive
some of us are really born to die
flies are waiting
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
song performed by by Marilyn Manson from Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet LX. To An Amiable Girl
MIRANDA! mark where shrinking from the gale,
Its silken leaves yet moist with early dew,
That fair faint flower, the Lily of the vale
Droops its meek head, and looks, methinks, like you!
Wrapp'd in a shadowy veil of tender green,
Its snowy bells a soft perfume dispense,
And bending as reluctant to be seen,
In simple loveliness it sooths the sense.
With bosom bared to meet the garish day,
The glaring Tulip, gaudy, undismay'd,
Offends the eye of taste; that turns away
To seek the Lily in her fragrant shade.
With such unconscious beauty, pensive, mild,
Miranda charms--Nature's soft modest child.
poem by Charlotte Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lament For Shuil Donald’s Daughter
I.
IN old Shuil Donald's cottage there are many voices weeping,
And stifled sobs, and murmurings of sorrow wild and vain,
For the old man's cherish'd blessing on her bed of death lies sleeping,--
The sleep from which no human wish can rouse her soul again.
Oh, dark are now those gentle eyes which shone beneath their lashes
So full of laughter and of love--it seems but yesterday--
Well may Shuil Donald mourn beside his hearth's forsaken ashes,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
II.
The spring shall come to other hearts with breezes and with showers,
But lonely winter still shall reign in old Shuil Donald's home;
Others may raise the song of joy, and laugh away the hours,
But he--oh! never more may joy to his lone dwelling come.
Her name shall be an empty sound, in idle converse spoken,
Forgotten shall she be by those who mourn her most to-day--
All, all but one, who wanders with his Highland spirit broken,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
III.
And he--long, long, at even-tide, when sunset rays are gleaming,
That sad old man shall sit within his lonely cottage door,
Desolate, desolate shall sit, and muse with idle dreaming
On days when her returning step came quick across the moor.
Oh! never more her quiet smile, her cheerful voice of greeting,
Shall rouse to warmth his aged heart, when darkly sinks the day--
Never, oh! never more on earth those loved ones may be meeting--
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Once
I SET a lily long ago;
I watched it whiten in the sun;
I loved it well, I had but one.
Then summer-time was done,
The wind came and the rain,
My lily bent, lay low.
Only the night-time sees my pain—
Alas, my lily long ago!
I had a rose-tree born in May;
I watched it burgeon and grow red,
I breathed the perfume that it shed.
Then summer-time had sped,
The frost came with its sleep
My rose-tree died away.
Only the silence hears me weep—
Alas, lost rose-tree! lost, lost May!
The garden's lily blows once more;
The buried rose will wake and climb;
There is no thought of rain and rime
After, next summer-time.
But the heart's blooms are weak;
Once dead for ever o'er.
Not night, not silence knows me seek
My joy that waned and blooms no more.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tears of joy...
Perfume of tenderness
Soft hugs of kindness
Lips filled with honesty
A heart of loyalty
A brain of integrity
A voice of romance
Her Words exhilarate
That's the flower I hold
One that's very rare
With beauty that matches
Angels in the sky
Her beauty within
Matches yellow roses
Found in paradise
As beauty within
Wets my cocoon of life
Gladness slaps my face
Knowing the flames of love
Burns in my flower's heart
Gives gratification
Which makes me cry
Many tears of joy
copyright ©
poem by Eyan Desir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lily Adair
On the beryl-rimmed rebecs of Ruby,
Brought fresh from the hyaline streams,
She played, on the banks of the Yuba,
Such songs as she heard in her dreams.
Like the heavens, when the stars from their cyries
Look down through the ebon night air,
Were the groves by the Ouphantic Fairies
Lit up for my Lily Adair—
For my child-like Lily Adair—
For my heaven-born Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
Like two rose-leaves in sunshine when blowing,
Just curled softly, gently apart,
Were her lips by her passion, while growing
In perfume on the stalk of her heart.
As mild as the sweet influences
Of the Pleiades 'pregning the air—
More mild than the throned Excellencies
Up in heaven, was my Lily Adair—
Was my Christ-like Lily Adair—
Was my lamb-like Lily Adair—
Was my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
At the birth of this fair virgin Vestal,
She was taken for Venus' child;
And her voice, though like diamond in crystal,
Was not more melodious than mild.
Like the moon in her soft silver splendor,
She was shrined in her own, past compare,
For no Angel in heaven was more tender
Than my beautiful Lily Adair—
Than my dove-like Lily Adair—
Than my saint-like Lily Adair—
Than my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
Thus she stood on the arabesque borders
Of the beautiful blossoms that blew
On the banks of the crystalline waters,
Every morn, in the diaphane dew.
The flowers, they were radiant with glory,
And shed such perfume on the air,
That my soul, now to want them, feels sorry,
And bleeds for my Lily Adair—
For my much-loved Lily Adair—
For my long-lost Lily Adair—
For my beautiful, dutiful Lily Adair.
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers (1853)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
An Open Secret!
Can you unfold rose bud as naturally as it is?
Sun flower blooms by the sight of Sun all days;
Lily flower blooms by the sight of Moon all days.
Is it possible to do so by me or your presence?
Nature does wonder we cannot even imagine!
Seeing Nature many things are created often;
But all delicate things can man do as Nature?
Natural expression has a value of its own sure;
Learning and doing things are different matter;
Same thing happens in the creativity of poetry.
All things happening in Nature are great wonders;
But who does care to note things of beauty in Nature?
Divine spirit present in all things of Nature is clear; but
Ignorance of man fails him to realize this open secret!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Peace In The Valley
Well, I'm tired and so weary
But I must go along
Till the Lord comes and calls me away
Where the morning's so bright
And the Lamb is the light
And the night, night is as fair as the day.
There will be peace in the valley
For me some day
There will be peace in the valley
For me, Oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness
No sorrow, no trouble I see
There will be peace
In the valley for me.
Well, the flowers will be blooming
And the grass will be green
And the skies will be clear and serene
Where the sun ever beams
In this valley of dreams
And no cloud will be seen.
There will be peace in the valley
For me some day
There will be peace in the valley
For me, Oh Lord. I pray
There'll be no sadness
No sorrow, no trouble I see
There will be peace
In the valley for me.
Well, the bear will be gentle
And the wolf will be tame
And the lion shall lay down
By the lamb, oh
And the beasts from the wild
Shall be led by a child
And I'll be changed,
Changed from this creature that I am.
There will be peace in the valley
For me some day
There will be peace in the valley
For me, Oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness
No sorrow, no trouble I see
There will be peace
In the valley for me...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Perfume And Colour Of Flower, Is Already In The Plant!
The flower blooms on that Plant,
Enchanting beauty and colour of
flower,
Perfume and colours were in the
flowering plants,
The perfume spreads, colours shine,
When every heart bloom on
maturity of love and wisdom!
The fragrance of flowers allready
bloomed-gives not only
courage, but also hope and faith
in nature's laws and Nature's plans!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Beautiful Love
you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower
you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower
you are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
I am glad I picked you
poem by Chidiebere Franklin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
i am glad i picked you
poem by Allen Steble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love is like a delicate flower
Love is like a delicate flower.
But no water is needed for its existence.
Only gentle words to feed its roots,
and passion to help it grow.
Trust to help it stand against the breeze
Kindness to carry its pollen far.
And as this flower grows,
so does the wonder of life
never alone will one soul be,
as long as the flower blooms
No frost to shatter its fragility.
poem by Ben Littlechild
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!