  I like not lady-slippers, Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red, or white as snow; I like the chaliced lilies, The heavy Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our gardens grow. For they are tall and slender; Their mouths are dashed with carmine; And when the wind sweeps by them, On their emerald stalks They bend so proud and graceful— They are Circassian women, The favorites of the Sultan, Adown our garden walks! And when the rain is falling, I sit beside the window And watch them glow and glisten, How they burn and glow! O, for the burning lilies, The tender Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow! Thomas Bailey Aldrich. |
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