The lily of the vale, of flowers the queen,
	Puts on the robe she neither sew’d not spun.

Michael Bruce.    

	The lily is all in white, like a saint,
	And so is no mate for me.

Hood.    

	“Look to the lilies how they grow!”
	’Twas thus the Saviour said, that we,
	Even in the simplest flowers that blow,
	God’s ever-watchful care might see.

Moir.    

	And the stately lilies stand
	Fair in the silvery light,
	Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer;
	Their pure breath sanctifies the air,
	As its fragrance fills the night.

Julia C. R. Dorr.    

	And lilies white, prepared to touch
	The whitest thought, nor soil it much,
	Of dreamer turned to lover.

E. B. Browning.    

	We are lilies fair,
	The flower of virgin light;
	Nature held us forth, and said,
	“Lo! my thoughts of white.”

Leigh Hunt.    

	I wish I were the lily’s leaf
	To fade upon that bosom warm,
	Content to wither, pale and brief,
	The trophy of thy paler form.

Dionysius.    

	Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power
	Mightier to reach the soul, in thought’s hushed hour,
	Than yours, ye lilies! chosen thus and graced!

Mrs. Hemans.