Among all sorrows that my heart hath known, Among all sorrows that my spirit keep Forever buried 'neath their mountains steep, Standeth one consolation, one alone.
I know that earth shall be for death a throne, And evermore within their burials deep The banded nations of the earth shall sleep, Sunken in sepulchres of sculptur'd stone.
Then all the world shall be a quietness: Dead women beautiful with their delights; All they that had such striving and distress,
And endless weariness in all the lands, White faces, eager heart-strings, soiled hands; And peace shall hold the valleys and the heights.
Thy splendour-lighted face before mine eyes Shines like a flaming sunset evermore; Thee only I behold on the earth's floor, Thee only I behold within the skies;
Thy coming on is like a conqueror, Before thy footsteps the world's glory dies, Within mine ears thy voice doth ever rise Like a loud ocean beating on the shore.
Thou art made kindred with eternity, Daughter of glory, daughter of consolations; Thy face is set above the constellations;
Of Death! O love! be I made one with thee, That on thy holy lips and in thy love The world may perish and the light thereof!
Lo, now my life is gone unto eclipse Upon thy perilous bosom; lo, I die, Faint with the utter whole of exstasy, With unassuaged lips against thy lips,
That can give no more joy; lo, at the place Of utter joy, lo, at joy's far-off throne, Which none shall reach, with eyes now weary grown, I lie slain at its utmost golden base.
Yea, we have call'd the white stars to behold Our pale and fainting faces sick with joy; Oregal lips that shall death's sting destroy,
I have suck'd bare life's cup upon thy breath! Kiss me to death! Lo, now our lips are cold, Wilt thou not bring new joy, O Death, O Death?
Lo, all the passionate pale evening I lay between the breasts of my beloved, Among the lilies, in the lily garden. The sky was pale, and all the sunset faded, And all the stars I saw not in the heaven, Because the glory of her face above me I saw alone, wrapt in a dream of slumber; And lo, she was more fair than all the lilies, Among the lilies, in the lily garden. And all her hair was golden chains to bind me, And all her mouth was crimson fire to burn me, And all the world became as wind before me, But as the wind before her face that passes, Among the lilies, in the lily garden. And lo, her face was fairer than the stars are, And lo, her breasts were whiter than the moon is, Whiter than the moon, and tipp'd with crimson coral. And low she bow'd her body, low before me, And gave me of her joy unto fulfilling: She bow'd her head whereto the stars do homage, Before whose face the years wax dim and fading, Before whose eyes the ages pass and vanish; Bow'd her low down before me like a lily, Among the lilies, in the lily garden. And now at last I care not if the morning Come at all, or the pale stars have setting, Nay I care not if the whole world perish, Perish and die, or if the white stars falter, Nay I care not if the night forever Hold me by her, and all things have ceasing; Yea, because her lips are more than roses, Yea, because her breasts are more than Heaven, Yea, because her face is more than God is, Among the lilies, in the lily garden.