Lilies of Lethe

By George Sterling

Revealed of your own light,
  How mystical you shine
  In shadowlands divine
O lilies of the night!

A wind is on my face
  Flown not from land nor sea,
  It bears your breath to me
As from a holy place

Tho still the night and deep
  I wander but in dream
  The darkness where your gleam,
O farther flowers of sleep!

I venture not to take
  One ghostly chalice up,
  Lest tears be in the cup,
Lest nevermore I wake

He on whose path you sway
  Beyond the silence goes,
  And they that wear your snows
Return not to the day.

Los Angeles Times, Jul 1, 1923, pg III38

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