Artwork Description:
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
Keywords:
Monet, Water, Lilies, Lily, Flower, Pond, Original Watercolor, Landscape Watercolor