I know more about flowers,
And Pat knows about ships.
'Schooner' and 'barquentine'
Are words of note on his lips.
The lilies in the garden walk
Are out today.
The nuns all came to look at them, ...
Maisie's been holding down her head all day,
Her little red head. And her pointed chin
Rests on her neck that slips so softly in
Across the sea
Come homeward ships
With freight of boys.
They used to say
Our mother brought us up like hot-house flowers,
From day to day
Such wondrous cares were ours
Great crane o'ertopping the delicate trees
Why do you seem so fair,
Swaying and raising your load with ease
Sometimes the skirts I push through my machine
Spread circlewise, strong petalled lobe on lobe,
And look for the rapt moment of a dream
I have a sister whom God gave to me;
He formed her out of trouble and the mists of the sea.
Like Aphrodite, she came to me full-grown.
Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the garden
With red threads binding them and stars about,
These shall be her symbols, for she is high and holy,