The white water-lilies, they sleep on the lake,

The white water-lilies, they sleep on the lake,
Till over the mountain the sun bids them wake.

At the rose-tinted touch of the long, level ray,
Each pure, perfect blossom unfolds to the day.

Each affluent petal outstretched and uncurled
To the glory and gladness and shine of the world.

O whiter land-lily, asleep in the dawn,
While yet the cool curtain of stars is half drawn,

And all the dark forest is mystic and still,
With the great yellow planet aglow on the hill,

Hark, somewhere among the grey beeches a thrush
Sends the first thrill of sound to requicken the hush!

With a flutter of eyelids, a sigh soft and deep,
An unfolding of rosy warm fingers from sleep,

For one perfect day more to love, gladden and roam,
Thy spirit comes back to its flowerlike home.