Loving Mother Lily

As the woods mimed gently In the morning breeze like a ballet dancer. The mother lilly Beheld that holy thing Begotten of her Like the blessed Madonna the little child in the manger. There, her seed lay asleep To care for anything in the world. She knew not how to teach Life to what seemed dead But love taught her fingers how Like Mozart to a novice the secret keys of the grandpiano. And there she stood Before any smelt the coming of rain singing the virtues Love inspired to teach the seed. Her seed! She poured wisdom into song And into a seed ignorant of life. Her season had come to sleep And all the garden of the valley had mourned. The marching Turks passed by to war trampling the glorious swansong on her lips. The sole of the general Dug her blessed seed to the ground And the rain came. The rain came to raise the one, destined for the general's quiet grave.