Classic Poem

Bind for her head a crown of crocuses,
And since she is more fair
Than they 'twill win them honour
If they may cluster there,
Catching light from the glory of her hair,
As she goes coronall'd with crocuses
Set like a wreath upon her.

So soon the new-litten Sun
Beameth his golden eye upon the day,
And in the grass new breath doth stir,
O come, apparel her
In colours fresh as ever rainbow spun;
Let us rejoice in her whenas we may.

Bind for her head a crown of crocuses
Of white and mauve and yellow,
To kindle on her brows,
And grow demure and mellow
From being linkt to such a grave yokefellow:
Loveliness shines in maids and crocuses
The fairer for their snows.

And now smooth-vestured for delight
In a clear gown of blue and silver white,
She steppeth forth to the green
And pleasant fields; unto her lovely face
The light doth look for food,
That thereon supping he may borrow grace
And for her sake live clean
To be a sweet shrine for such maidenhood.

Bind for her head a crown of crocuses
Or e'er the bride be married
And stolen from her home:
Too long the bride hath tarried,
Across the threshold she must soon be carried.
Brides should be clothed like the March crocuses,
Soon made ready to come.

What bridal for what bride
Than Sun and open weather
Could be fitter her pride
Whom no man's yoke could tether?
You shall but see together
Her and the South-west wind,
But you shall know her mind
In no man's love to bide.

Bind for her head a crown of crocuses,
And for her vest,
More fairy white than snow on upland wolds,
A posy of the flower's she loveth best,
Stuck with marsh marigolds
And shy primroses and pale lady-smock,
Anemones that flock
In woody hollows where the dormice nest.
So in hedge-flowirs and young crocuses
Let bosom and brows go drest.