In God’s Gardens

Author

W.E.B. Du Bois

Published

April 1, 1912

O mist-blown Lily of the north,

A-bending southward in thy bloom,

And bringing beauty silver sown

And pale blue radiance of snows—

O fair white ily, bowing low,

Above the dream-swept poppy’s mouth,

Athwart the black and crimson South—

Why dost thou fear—why dos thou fear?

Lo! sense its sleep-sown subtle breath,

Where wheel in passioned whirl above

All lingering, luring love of love—

All perfume born of dole and death.

Cold ghost-wreathed Lily of the North,

When once thy dawning darkens there,

Come then with sunlight-sifted hair

And seek the haunting heaven of Night.

Where, over moon-mad shadows whirled,

The star-tanned mists dim swathe the sky

In phantasy to dream and die—

A wild sweet wedding of the World.

Citation

For attribution, please cite this work as:
Du Bois, W.E.B. 1912. “In God’s Gardens.” The Crisis 3 (6): 235. https://www.dareyoufight.org/Volumes/03/06/in-gods-gardens.html.