The Lilly of the valley breathing in the humble grass
Answerd the lovely maid and said:  I am a watry weed,
And I am very small and love to dwell in lowly vales: 
So weak the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head
Yet I am visited from heaven and he that smiles on all
Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads his hand
Saying, rejoice thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower. 
Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks: 
For thou shall be clothed in light, and fed with morning manna: 
Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs
To flourish in eternal vales:  they why should Thel complain. 
Why should the mistress of the vales of Har, utter a sigh.

She ceasd & smild in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.

Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley. 
Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o’er tired
The breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells the milky garments
He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face,
Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints. 
Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume. 
Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs
Revives the milked cow, & tames the fire-breathing steed. 
But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun: 
I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place.

Queen of the vales the Lily answered, ask the tender cloud,
And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky. 
And why it scatters its bright beauty thro the humid air. 
Descend O little cloud & hover before the eyes of Thel.

The Cloud descended and the Lily bowd her modest head: 
And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.

II.

O little Cloud the virgin said, I charge thee to tell me
Why thou complainest now when in one hour thou fade away: 
Then we shall seek thee but not find:  ah Thel is like to thee. 
I pass away, yet I complain, and no one hears my voice.

The Cloud then shewd his golden head & his bright form emerg’d. 
Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.

O virgin know’st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs
Where Luvah doth renew his horses:  lookst thou on my youth. 
And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more. 
Nothing remains; O maid I tell thee, when I pass away. 
It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy: 
Unseen descending, weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers: 
And court the fair eyed dew, to take me to her shining tent
The weeping virgin, trembling kneels before the risen sun. 
Till we arise link’d in a golden band and never part: 
But walk united bearing food to all our tender flowers.