Red Lilies
Strike fuller chords, or let the music rest!
Of tender songs the world has yet no dearth,
Which scarce survive the moment of their birth.
Be thine in passionate cadences expressed,
And banish morning-glories from thy breast!
A purple dream-flower of the woods is worth
So little in the gardens of the earth;
If gift thou givest, give what we love best.
Since Life is wild with tears, and red with wrongs,
Let these red lilies typify thy songs,
If with full flame thou would'st be comforted.
Since Life is red with wrongs, and wild with tears,
Oh move us, haunt us, kill our souls with fears,
And we will praise thee,--after thou art dead!