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Home  »  The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse  »  133. Forgotten among the Lilies

Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.

Augusta Theodosia Drane (1823–1894)

133. Forgotten among the Lilies

  • I fainted away abandoned;
  • And amid the lilies forgottenThrew all my cares away.
  • (St. John of the Cross. The Obscure Night, Stanza viii)

  • THROUGH the dark night I wander on alone,

    AND, as one blinded, grope my weary way,

    Without a lamp to shed its guiding ray;

    I wander on unseen, and seeing none,

    And caring to behold but only One.

    I see not, yet my heart will give me light,

    And safer than the noonday sun will guide

    To where the Bridegroom waiteth for the Bride;

    So walking on in faith and not by sight,

    I cannot fear but He will guide me right.…

    Forgotten ’mid the lilies; for I feel

    Their gentle blossoms wave above my head;

    I breathe the magic perfume which they shed,

    As though my bleeding wounds they fain would heal,

    And from my heart its aching sorrow steal.

    A sad, sweet lot—I needs must call it sweet;

    My cares, like withered buds, I cast aside,

    And reck but little what may next betide;

    The days and years fly past on pinions fleet,

    Amid these lilies crushed beneath His feet.

    Forgotten and abandoned;—yet withal

    Leaning my heart upon my only Love:

    Nay, raise me not, I do not care to move;

    Soon I shall hear His gentle footstep fall,

    And lift my eyes, and answer to His call.

    Till then among the lilies let me lie;

    See, I have cast my idle cares away:

    Howe’er it be, I am content to stay

    Until once more the Bridegroom passes by,

    And hither turns His gracious, pitying eye.

    Blame not my folly, for I know full well

    My words can nought but idle babbling seem,

    The madness of a fond and foolish dream:

    Bear with my folly, for the thoughts that swell

    This burning heart, I cannot, dare not tell.

    Know only this—I suffer, yet I rest;

    For all my cares and fears are cast away,

    And more than this I know not how to say;

    Forgotten though I be, I own it best

    And ’mid the lilies lie in perfect rest.