Flower-de-Luce

(abridged)

Thou art the Iris, fair among the fairest,

Who, armed with golden rod

And winged with the celestial azure, bearest

The message of some God.

Thou art the Muse, who far from crowded cities

Hauntest the sylvan streams,

Playing on pipes of reed the artless ditties

That come to us as dreams.

O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river

Linger to kiss thy feet!

O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever

The world more fair and sweet.

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow