Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly br My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground, br Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily br Soft-scented in the air for yards around; br br Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf! br Just like a fragile bell of silver rime, br It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief br In the young pregnant year at Eastertime; br br And many thought it was a sacred sign, br And some called it the resurrection flower; br And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine, br Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.