by Hannah Flagg Gould
Imperial beauty! fair, unrivalled one!
What flower of earth has honor high as thine, --
To find its name on His unsullied lips,
Whose eye was light from heaven?
In vain the power
Of human voice to swell the strain of praise
Thou hast received; and which will ever sound
Long as the page of inspiration shines --
While mortal songs shall die as summer winds
That, wafting off thine odors, sink to sleep!
I will not praise thee, then; but thou shalt be
My hallowed flower! The sweetest, purest thoughts
Shall cluster round thee, as thy snowy bells
On the green, polished stalk, that puts them forth!
I will consider thee, and melt my cares
In the bland accents of His soothing voice,
Who, from the hill of Palestine, looked round
For a fair specimen of skill divine;
And, pointing out the Lily of the field,
Declared, the wisest of all Israel's kings,
In his full glory, not arrayed like thee!
Source:Poems By Miss H. F. Gould. Volume 1.
Hilliard, Gray, & Co., Boston