The Lily of the Valley

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The Lily of the Valley

There is not any weed but hath its shower,

There is not any pool but hath its star;

And black and muddy though the waters are

We may not miss the glory of a flower,

And winter moons will give them magic power

To spin in cylinders of diamond spar;

And everything hath beauty near and far,

And keepeth close and waiteth on its hour!

And I, when I encounter on my road

A human soul that looketh black and grim,

Shall I more ceremonious be than God?

Shall I refuse to watch one hour with him

Who once beside our deepest woe did bud

A patient watching flower about the brim?