PEGGY MITCHELL

As lily grows up easily,

In modest, gentle dignity

To sweet perfection,

So grew she,

As easily.

Or as the rose that takes no care

Will open out on sunny air

Bloom after bloom, fair after fair,

Sweet after sweet;

Just so did she,

As carelessly.

She is our torment without end,

She is our enemy and friend,

Our joy, our woe;

And she will send

Madness or glee

To you and me,

And endlessly.