Easter Lilies
O ye dear and blessed ones who are done with sighing,
Do the Easter Lilies blow for you to-day?
Do the shining angels, through Heaven’s arches flying,
Bear the snow-white blossoms on your breasts to lay?
For we cannot reach you, O our well belovèd—
Nothing can we do for you save to hold you dear;
From our close embraces ye are far removèd,
And our empty yearnings cannot bring you near.
Once on Easter mornings glad we gave you greeting—
Gave you fair flowers, singing, “Christ is risen to-day!”
Hands were clasped together, hearts and lips were meeting—
Earth and we together sang a roundelay!
Now—yet why repine we?—ye are done with sorrow;
Life and Lent are over, with their prayers and tears;
After night of watching came the glad to-morrow,
Came the blessed sunshine of the eternal years.
Surely in Jerusalem, where the Lord Christ reigneth,
Ye with saints and martyrs keep this festal day—
And the holy angels, ere its glory waneth,
Heaven’s own Easter Lilies on your breasts shall lay!