He told me then how he'd return
When the flowers opened in spring
Even though the sun might burn-
The bluebells forget how to ring.
He promised that his promise
Was as good as gotten gold
His words; his self; I did surmise
Gave me something I could hold.
When winter doldrums finally lift
And spring arrives in pouring rain:
And nature's fragrant with beauty's gifts-
Oh, don't let the Lily bloom in vain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem