The day is curled about again To view the splendour she was in, When first with hallowed hands The holy man knit the mysterious bands; When you two your contracted souls did move, Like cherubims above, And did make love, As your un-understanding issue now, In a glad sigh, a smile, a tear, a vow. Tell me, O self-reviving Sun, In thy peregrination Hast thou beheld a pair Twist their soft beams like these in their chaste air? As from bright numberless embracing rays Are sprung th' industrious days, So when they gaze, And change their fertile eyes with the new morn, A beauteous offspring is shot forth, not born. Be witness then, all-seeing Sun, Old spy, thou that thy race hast run In full five thousand rings; To thee were ever purer offerings Sent on the wings of faiths? And thou, O Night! Curtain of their delight, By these made bright, Have you not marked their celestial play, And no more peeked the gaieties of day? Come then, pale virgins, roses strew, Mingled with Io's, as you go; The snowy ox is killed, The fane with pros'lyte lads and lasses filled; You too may hope the same seraphic joy Old Time cannot destroy, Nor fulness cloy, When, like these, you shall stamp by sympathies Thousands of new-born loves with your chaste eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KIND MOON by SARA TEASDALE IN THE SHADOWS: MY EPITAPH by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: COUNTENANCE FOREBODING EVIL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ON A MINIATURE by HENRY AUGUSTIN BEERS A HOP AT SARATOGA by LEVI BISHOP NIGHT BLOSSOMING by JANICE BLANCHARD IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: A CONVENT WITHOUT GOD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |