| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1099. The Lily of Yorrow |
| | | By Henry Van Dyke |
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| DEEP in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing; | |
| Blue is its cup as the sky, and with mystical odor o’erflowing; | |
| Faintly it falls through the shadowy glades when the south wind is blowing; | |
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| Sweet are the primroses pale, and the violets after a shower; | |
| Sweet are the borders of pinks, and the blossoming grapes on the bower: | 5 |
| Sweeter by far is the breath of that far-away woodland flower. | |
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| Searching and strange in its sweetness, it steals like a perfume enchanted | |
| Under the arch of the forest, and all who perceive it are haunted, | |
| Seeking and seeking forever, till sight of the lily is granted. | |
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| Who can describe how it grows, with its chalice of lazuli leaning | 10 |
| Over a crystalline spring, where the ferns and the mosses are greening? | |
| Who can imagine its beauty, or utter the depth of its meaning? | |
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| Calm of the journeying stars, and repose of the mountains olden, | |
| Joy of the swift-running rivers, and glory of sunsets golden, | |
| Secrets that cannot be told in the heart of the flower are holden. | 15 |
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| Surely to see it is peace and the crown of a life-long endeavor; | |
| Surely to pluck it is gladness,—but they who have found it can never | |
| Tell of the gladness and peace: they are hid from our vision forever. | |
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| ’T was but a moment ago that a comrade was wandering near me: | |
| Turning aside from the pathway, he murmured a greeting to cheer me,— | 20 |
| Then he was lost in the shade, and I called, but he did not hear me. | |
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| Why should I dream he is dead, and bewail him with passionate sorrow? | |
| Surely I know there is gladness in finding the lily of Yorrow: | |
| He has discovered it first, and perhaps I shall find it to-morrow. | |
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