The Lent Lily Poem by A.E. Housman


Tis spring; come out to ramble 
The hilly brakes around, 
For under thorn and bramble 
About the hollow ground 
The primroses are found. 

And there’s the windflower chilly 
With all the winds at play, 
And there’s the Lenten lily 
That has not long to stay 
And dies on Easter day. 

And since till girls go maying 
You find the primrose still, 
And find the windflower playing 
With every wind at will, 
But not the daffodil, 

Bring baskets now, and sally 
Upon the spring’s array, 
And bear from hill and valley 
The daffodil away 
That dies on Easter day. 
Alfred Edward Housman

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