| 1. | Hail! dainty blossoms sweet and pale, From fair Ardmeallie's garden bowers - Pure fragrant lilies of the vale, I greet you gladly, gentle flowers. Though June reigns like a radiant queen, And scatters gifts o'er hill and lea, No floral treasure I have seen, Can ere eclipse your charms to me.
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5. | There was a maiden young and fair, Who in Ardmeallie's garden green Your gentle sisters blooming there Through many summers bright had seen, Last year when flowers were all abloom, And summer spread her mantle gay, They laid within the silent tomb The form of fair "Armdeallie May".
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| 2. | Although you flaunt no glowing hue - By which to lure the roving eye - You seem more fresh and pure and true Than many flowers of richer dye; With perfume sweet the room you fill, Your fragile beauty charms the gaze; And in the thoughtful heart you thrill The memories of bye-gone days.
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6. | Now she has reached that sinless clime, Where sin and death and parting o'er; The touch of pain, the change of time Can vex the maiden nevermore. A lily life, a budding flower, Who faded in her days of youth; But who through our Redeemer's power Has reached a home of joy and truth.
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| 3. | How oft the fair and blushing bride Wears lilies on that happy day, When wedlock's holy bonds are tied, And two fond hearts are knit for aye; And ah! how oft when death's cold hand Has laid a loved one down to rest, As by the narrow couch we stand, We lilies lay on that quiet breast.
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7. | Oh! emblems of a spotless life, Pure fragrant lilies of the vale, We pause amid the the busy strife To listen to your gentle tale. Now may the teaching be in vane, Which you so sweetly seem to yield - The Master seems to talk again About the "lilies of the field".
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| 4. | Thus, hallowed both by joy and grief, Are you sweet blossoms pure as snow - Each quivering spray and guardian leaf Can wake some chord of long ago; And faces, through the mist of years, Come forward quickly at your call; Till from our eyes unbidden tears, Like trembling raindrops o'er you fall. |
8. | Thanks be to Him whose bounteous hand So many lovely gifts has given, To cheer us through this pilgrim land, Like tiny messengers from heaven. And grateful also I must be To one who kindly sent the flowers Like fairy gifts of June to me, From fair Ardmeallie's garden bowers. |
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From the book of songs and poems, 'On Bogie's Banks and Bonnie Deveronside' |
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