Frederick Delius — So white so soft so sweet is she

Have you seen but a whyte Lilie grow Before rude hands had touch'd it; Have you mark'd but the fall of the snow Before the Earth hath smucht it Have you felt the wool of Beaver Or Swansdown ever; Or have smelt of the Bud of the Bryer Or the Nard in the fire; Or have tasted the Bag of the Bee; O so whyte, O so soft, O so sweet, so sweet So sweet is she! O so whyte, O so soft, O so sweet So sweet, so sweet is she!