Of The Lily's Fine Bouquet
Copyright 2004 by Jon Gill

Imagine a walk in the florid world outside
And all that lays beside your path has lied
Regret flies headlong, headstrong from the past
Regression blooms to claim your will at last
Its sunny face mocks laborings of love
Its arms reach out for handouts from above
You look long deep into its needful eyes
With hesitating laughs, it cries and cries.

What seed has made this ruddy blossom grow?
Why creeps it to the path on which we go?
A flower potted deep from long ago
Should never again its cynic’s petals show
         It shall indeed be banished as the snow.

For now we walk along the firmer road
Where roses dare not prick us with their goads
Where moth and rust can but themselves destroy
And songs for notes, not words, can be enjoyed
Regret has wilted with the fading shade
And grace a brilliant lamp in us has made
Never to pine again for sun or rain
Nor twisted stems to bend and break in vain.

What light has brought about this gleaming day?
What garden sends old blossoms far away?
To invoke the loyal truth without delay
To give us treasure that cannot decay
         We shall be of the Lily’s fine bouquet!



Back to Book 2

Home