Classic Poem

I. THE CALLA LILY .

When the lofty peerless lily,
Silver-browed and chastely chilly,
Hides the dream on which she museth
What a world the poet loseth!
She is queenly on her stem,
Though she wear no diadem,
And she knows she is a queen,
Self-contained, self-ruled, serene;
No supremacy requiring,
No predominance desiring,
Owning such estate of beauty
Reverence becomes a duty.
Thus there dwells the stainless form
Even fancy fails to warm
With the dainty blossom-hues
Morning freshens with her dews.