Classic Poem

And on the morrow, at first peep o' the day
Which follows, and which men as Sunday spell, —
Whom most him liketh, dame or damozel,
Your chief shall choose out of the sweet array.
So in the palace painted and made gay
Shall he converse with her whom he loves best;
And what he wishes, his desire express'd
Shall bring to presence there, without gainsay.
And youths shall dance, and men do feats of arms,
And Florence be sought out on every side
From orchards and from vineyards and from farms:
That they who fill her streets from far and wide
In your fine temper may discern such charms
As shall from day to day be magnified.