I came upon, within a meadow
A flower with broken petals
I placed it in my hand
Watching it crumble back to land
I imagine brilliant white
Upon my lip, I take a bite
Whispers of chants, complete the rite
Drove fist into dirt and waited for night
There she was upon the morn
Bright as the cleanest ivory horn
I look upon her with warm eyes
Decided I would wait and not pass her by
I remember the spell upon my head
To bring life to that which seems dead:
“To summon she
Noble bunny
Give tears to thee
And she wakes from sleep”
Upon this flower I did cry
I wept and mourned till I ran dry
Creature of snow and powdered dust
Crawled up to me with her trust
O, what wondrous things can bloom
O amica mea lilium!