LILY MIDST THE THORNS

MIDST MAUVE tipped thorns, a perfumed lily grows.
> Solomon, who with his Sage solemnity,
> Wealth, wisdom and regal identity,
> Was not arrayed like a single one of these.

> There by his side, that Arum Lily glows,
> Her scent is wafted on the breeze that shows
> Earnest ones, the devotional way to go,
> And gladden hearts, to set their souls at ease.
>
> That Lily amongst thorns is like the Sage,
> Teaching enlightenment by his silent gaze,
> Among the folk in this bewildered age,
> He lights a fire settings woods of dreams ablaze.

> So praise fair Lily gracing your thorny field,
> She cries "enquire my child, surrender, yield!"