Saturday, 28 February 2015


She was not Dido, nor was she Juliet;
Ophelia's opulent retreat
set to her own grand death song was
an affront to her taste.

She preferred a soundless exit, weary
of pretense of strength
and worth, of hoping against hope that
the act would bring forth shades
of all she so fervently wished were true. 

Yes, it did lend her inutile motion grace,
a semblance of life, though
the serene light of a silent death glowed
in her eyes; the comfort of a
spectral tide's whelming buoyed her up,
its wordless pledge her sole
egress from barren spaces thick with
empty spirants and sightless souls.
Still, she left her smile upon every flower,
at times insensible of her
superfluousness. Earth wears them now;
She would not spurn what
to human eyes seemed flawed, wanting.

Go forth, my beloved sister, into the one
Garden where Spring forever
reigns, into the sole refuge that awaits all
with fragrant arms outstretched.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candiidum

Artist: Charles Joshua Chaplin

Thursday, 26 February 2015





Such curt dismissal of
festering wounds that
fuel my pulse, 

animate the very smiles 
that conceal them....

Still, I would not disabuse
you of your notions, for
your spirit has need
of them.

Your words might fill the
silence; never will they
slide into sacred spaces
where Truth resides.

I shall wear them

as dark adornments upon 
the black shroud 
of memories that mantles 
this living corpse
claiming only enough
breath to nourish the
anguish that is 
its purpose.

 May these memories, 
each one stabbing my
being to the rhythm of my
transgressor's heart,
merge into the recesses 
of purgatory.

Yes, they have fulfilled
their duty towards us both.

This is my prayer for you:
May you never breathe a
day with pain like mine
under your skin.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Evelyn de Morgan

Tuesday, 24 February 2015


'Pon an early spring by a budding birch,
as a thrush sang 'pon her leafy perch,
'neath fairy skies of palest blue,
there I first 'spied the wonder of you.

'Twas as though the sun your tresses had spun,
your cheek the rose for its own had won,
my gaze 'pon your violet eyes fell,
the envy of blooms in wood and dell.

Your maiden stance held the promise of spring,
hope and joy to my soul did it bring,
as bluebells into wreaths you wrought,
your sunshine laughter the wov'n bands caught.

Ev'ry word you uttered blossomed and glowed,
an Angel's smile 'pon all you bestowed,
as infants you caressed I knew,
all the wise said of Heaven was true.

Your blithesome tune, pride of ev'ry songbird,
my spirit to greatest rapture stirred,
fair Muse, by one and all admir'd
a fledgling poet's first verse inspir'd.

Anon a youth thro' the woods trudging came,
his ardent aspect held passion's flame,
a flower'd crown you placed 'pon his head,
this swain that summer promised to wed.

Tho' young and old your espousal did cheer,
my tender heart broke your troth to hear,
for another your love had claimed,
fortune her favoured children had named.

Your nuptials summer with her bounty graced,
choicest hues the woodland chapel laced,
gaily you danced, a gleeful dame,
yet, foreboding my heart overcame.

As the seasons went by my sorrow healed,
glad bells and solemn o'er the land pealed,
in verse my ardour I confessed,
worship unreturned my quill had blessed.

Soon, wealth and renown my solitude crowned,
nor joy nor comfort in such I found,
violet eyes sparkled in my dreams,
by their radiance I filled endless reams.

Now, by their cold light I mourn words unsaid,
your colours lie strewn 'pon the riv'r bed,
Nature weeps, e'en songbirds are still,
for one so gentle was used so ill.

'Mid violets I rove, your laughter I hear,
as your loving kin prepare your bier,
in wood and dell my Muse I see,
how, pray, could I pen your elegy?

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Arthur Hughes

Sunday, 22 February 2015


Sing to us mortals, o Son of Calliope,
thou, whose throat the gods
touched with silver 'neath Elysium's
brightest rays. Marry thy fair
mother's verse afresh with sacred
strains of mighty Apollo's 
golden lyre, for Earth's children thirst
to revel in Parnassus' delights, in her
celestial airs and verdant splendour.

Our souls have need of thine ardency,
great minstrel, thou blight
of the sirens, beloved of the ill-starred
Eurydice. How the Nymphs
and deities wept thine anguished cant
to hear! Did not thy melodies 
soften the heart of Hades himself, thy
honeyed tones the Erinyes
cause to shed bitterest tears?  

Pour 'pon our parched spirits thy river
of mystical notes that once
stopped the wind and waters, charmed
birds and beasts, subdued
Cerberus! Did not raindrops cling fast to
leaves, sole for thy refrains 
athirst, for beauty the clouds extolled to
the moon, to distant stars? 

Bestow 'pon us such artistry as once the
elements gathered to savour,
for earthly words and tunes have ceased
to move man's spirit. He speaks
not Nature's tongue, nor lives by his own
inmost light. Sing to us, Orpheus,
with the voices of the sea, wind, earth and
fire, that we may stir to life anew,
that we may live
in blissful accord with all Creation.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Charles François Jalabert

Friday, 20 February 2015


Such joy I found in falling flowers,
these descending stars,
fading sparklers bestrewing Earth
with the last scintillae
of their glow, their crowning
oblation to her glory!

Down the laburnum walk sunbeams
skipped, floated into
drifts of nodding blue monkshood,
wove through birches,
traced strands of lemon flamelets
with softly gilded kisses.

The serenity of Spring woodlands
alighted upon my pale
shoulders. Fate, this great sculptor
of life, bestowed upon
me a glimpse of the light she works
by, a freeing act of
mercy toward one bruised, blighted.

Those dark amber drops are now but
a memory, lucid enough
to sustain what life remains. I drink
deep of it with eternal
gratitude for its grace, for that

shining moment of respite
from lornness.

Yes, I am a voiceless suppliant in this
shrine to breath and
peace; yet, I shall repeat the litany of
falling flowers as I turn
to dust.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Dorte Muller

Wednesday, 18 February 2015


A beginning and an end?
These, I do not see,
merely a spanning from
my limitless within
to the centre of your own,
into a vastness I am
blessed to know,
to construe. 

Oceans could not sunder
me from you, from
all you love and cherish.
Your echoes resound
in the caverns of
their beings; traces of
your light glister
in their inmost flame.

I could traverse this space
in a moment, borne
upon a single heartbeat
across this starfield,
over these arcing crystalline
swaths into your
waiting arms. Do we not
embrace upon every horizon?

What are time and distance
to us whose souls
were wed as they sparked
into being?-Merely
transience, a fleeting preface
to their eternal melding.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum


Monday, 16 February 2015


Would you sing to me, as we
amble o'er smooth
fields of clover in this space
apart adrift 'pon fey
winds, far from earthly cares?

Would you let your melismata
enfold me as your
arms do, their glorious colours
arcing to Heaven
and back into my mortal heart?

May we breathe your cadences,
melody and harmony, 
let them clothe our skin, imbue 
our very marrow,
spelling all that binds two souls
in the purest union?

Mellow waves our haven shall
frame, their lyrical
weaving our ground carpet.
Within these tuneful
cascades shall we thrive, their
rhythms our every 
step shall guide.
Our forms this sacred theme
shall embalm, when 
we cease breathing. Dulcet tides
shall bear us into
realms of His sweetest music.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: FLORA
Artist: John William Waterhouse

Friday, 13 February 2015



Beauteous dawn! An eternal night have
I waited to behold your
luminous countenance! Your smile now
brings forth happy tears,
as the skies pour night's sparkling jewels
into your rosy lap.

How your splendour heals and succours
my weary form, my sad
spirit! Restore to me my senses, for I am
wretched with ecstasy! 
No sooner do blushes sear my skin than
I am pale as a daylily.

Such joy courses thro' my veins in father's
garden, as the poppies
drink deep of your hues! Yet, my Daphnis' 
beauty drives shards
into my heart, stops my very breath.

Am I ill? My unceasing pain has made of
me a poetess. Thoughts
and words wash o'er me, as violet-scented
breezes bathe the vine-clad
hillocks and pastures. His smile enrobes
the anemones, his laugh
tints the wine, the tide speaks his name.

At the spring he awaits me, by the sacred
grotto of the Nymphs,
garland of hyacinths upon his brow, dark
loops and swirls of his
ample tresses waving as vine tendrils in
the warm summer breeze.

Your every word is a butterfly's kiss 'pon
my cheek, my Daphnis,
yet, your melodies wound my soul as the
brambles tear my flesh.
Save me, o beloved Nymphs! Wherefore
do I, a simple shepherd
girl, now hollowed, now glutted, suffer so?

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: Daphnis et Chloé
Artist: Louis Hersent

Wednesday, 11 February 2015



Sweeter than honey her silken mouth,
gentle words soothe my pain,
alas, as a sting was Chloe's kiss,
yet, I would kiss again.

Oh, how my heart leaps, my pulse beats high,
nor food nor drink I crave,
icy brooks could not my blushes cool,
for her slim form they lave.

So long, fair maiden, have I been blind
your radiance now I see,
such pleasing anguish my soul fills o'er
this bitter victory!

Her name would I speak in cheerful dreams,
thro' ev'ry waking hour,
such mellifluence no lark could match,
her smile no earthly flower.

Lustrous eyes vast sunlit woods contain,
blithe laugh a mountain stream,
at her bidding barren valleys bloom,
spring's choicest hues they beam.

Spun gold tresses the sun would envy,
the Nymphs her milky skin,
tender as buds are her petal lips,
her breath to theirs akin.

Her gaze my spirit pensive renders,
silence my soul pervades,
this strange torment I cannot fathom,
Earth blooms, yet, Daphnis fades.

Nightingales' warbles no tunes inspire,
my pipes unwanted lie,
tho' Nature bids man springtide exalt, 
my heart would not comply.

Wherefore does languor overcome me?
Have I not gladly won
the ardour of Beauty's favoured child?
By joy am I undone.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:
Artist: Robert Poetzelberger

Monday, 9 February 2015



Every stone here rings, my Daphnis,
rocks chime paeans
the winds carved into them, rejoicing,
as the skies wrought our
souls from Nymphs' devotion and
the Muses' longing.

Swallows tune their songs to your
pipe, for 'tis the stars
that sing thro' your breath. Would
that I were a reed in
your instrument, that I may thrum
with your sweet music!
Would that you held my heart in your
hands, your gentle
fingers willing it to beat to the
rhythm of your own.

I have mastered your eyes, comely
youth! Their flamelets
of purest devotion, of constancy
and care dance in my own. 
Moonrays could not drown your
tawny orbs, for they hold
the Day Star.

My beacon would you be 'pon Earth's
darkest night. Enwrapped
in thy tender gaze I slumber 'neath
the oak, its caress dapples my skin,
warms my blood, cocoons my form.

Shall my life dim as the dying daylight?
The sinking orb's gold
stabs my being deeper each eventide,
rends this girl's heart of
fifteen Springs, for I shall be parted
from my own Sun,
from my Daphnis.

Sleepless, weeping, I know not why,
shall I await dawn's light.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Louis Hersent