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LILY MIDST THE THORNS

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> MIDST MAUVE tipped thorns, a perfumed lily grows.

> Solomon, who with his Sage solemnity,

> Wealth, wisdom and regal identity,

> Was not arrayed like a single one of these.

 

> There by his side, that Arum Lily glows,

> Her scent is wafted on the breeze that shows

> Earnest ones, the devotional way to go,

> And gladden hearts, to set their souls at ease.

>

> That Lily amongst thorns is like the Sage,

> Teaching enlightenment by his silent gaze,

> Among the folk in this bewildered age,

> He lights a fire settings woods of dreams ablaze.

 

> So praise fair Lily gracing your thorny field,

> She cries " enquire my child, surrender, yield! "

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