Poems (Douglas)/The Broken Lily

by Sarah Parker Douglas

The Broken Lily.

A lily, deck'd in snow-white robes,
 Bloom'd by a murm'ring stream,
Each night she bow'd her head in joy,
 And dream'd as lilies dream.
Each morn the water wand'ring past,
 Its sweetest music gave,
As bending from her couch she view'd
 Her pure face in its wave.

'Twas beauteous when the sun arose,
 That lily to behold,
Her snowy garments beaded o'er
 With gems of glancing gold;
And as towards the blushing sky
 Her head she meekly raised,
A ruby gem of purest rays
 Upon her bosom blazed.

And many a bean that flow'ret had:
 The bee, though prone to rove,
Forsook the whole gay sisterhood
 For his sweet lily love;
The flirting butterfly was seen
 To leave more gaudy things,
And where the lily's pale robe gleam'd
 To rest his glitt'ring wings.

But on a day—a luckless day!
 A zephyr sought the bow'rs,
Now dimpling with its kiss the wave,
 Now sporting with young flow'rs;
Now wrestling with the lily fair,
 In wantonness and play;
And up and down, and to and fro
 Her bright head toss'd that day.

Too low she bow'd in striving with
 The zephyr in its mirth,
Until her snowy garments came
 In contact with the earth.
And when she graceful rose again
 With proud elastic spring,
A dark spot dimm'd her loveliness—
 She was a sullied thing!

A cloud, whilst floating o'er the scene—
 To wash away the stain—
In pity to the thing defiled,
 Pour'd down its well meant rain.
But too severe and heavily
 Dash'd down the patt'ring shower,
Prostrating to the mouldy earth
 The tiny, fragile flow'r.

Oh, had the rain in gentleness
 Swept o'er the floral gem,
A purified and lovely thing
 Might still have graced the stem!
But to the flow'r each pelting drop
 A cruel death blow gave,
And bow'd and shatter'd to the earth
 What it but meant to save.

And thus it is with human flowers;
 Oh, ye who would reprove
The weak and erring of your race,
 Your counsel give in love!
There is a spell in gentleness,
 A magic in its tone,
Which holds the power to sway the heart,
 And holds that power alone.

Kind words! sure such alone should flow
 From gentle woman's heart;
And surely harshness is beneath
 Man's still superior part:
Such only tends to break the reed,
 To crush the bending flower;
Oh, then, let chidings kind and calm
 Descend, the cleansing shower!