Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 146

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CXLVI LILIES AND DOVES (May, 1902)
Bring not the lily hither; she is pale, And we have bought with blood the end of strife.She lives a day; and then her glories fail. The peace we died for shall outlive our life.
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Make not the dove an emblem; she hath wings, And she will fly: 'tis not her cooing songThat shall proclaim the concord whence there springsStern peace—a joy inflexible and strong.

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