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In Praise of the Easter Lily
By Don Iannone

Dearest trumpet-shaped flower,
Virtuous mother of rebirth,
You remind us, ever so well,
of early springs
when we were much younger.
How could we ever forget?
White-robed apostle of hope,
Gracing all about you,
Your sweet scent
lingers far after you're gone,
In you, we resurrect our
faith in something larger,
Something eternal,
Something magical,
Something infinite that
lives on inside all of us.

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