This is the holy day of half the year;
To Hymnia's pageant come, for it is here

First, with shrill summons of the double reed
Let the flute-player bid the folk take heed

Stand on one side, or follow in the throng
That like a dancing water laughs along,

Headed by maidens, tall and slim as wands,
With budded wreaths and sisterly linkt hands.

After them lads, clean in new snowy smocks,
Come, leading by the firstlings of their flocks;

And children let from school, in loose array,
Bare-legg'd, bare-arm'd, head-bare, busy with play.

Their wagging tongues make such a merry din
The piper's winding tune sounds far and thin.

Next girls, with viol tuckt against the cheek,
Trailing their long robes, bend like lilies meek;

Even as the bow, drawn out by their lithe fingers,
Wounds slowly, so their passionate music lingers:

Till to a master-call awakes the morn,
And beasts leave graze to wonder at the horn.

The trumpeters in Lincoln green and tan,
Lusty as noon, make music while they can;

For homage is best done by man to maid
With plough and sheep-hook, reaping-hook and spade:

Only in May-time Rob, lagging with Prue,
Can belt her with his arm the whole day through,

And music only then her voice uprears
To honour him who sings and her who hears.

Now bend all knees, and off go every cap;
Cast now, ye maids, the flowers from your lap!

Under a canopy of pink dog-rose
Young Hymnia a virgin-goddess goes.

In what sweet guise she cometh is well seen,
Close-robed in a thin garment, white and green;

Long-throated, something tall, and sober-eyed,
With parted lips she takes the morning's pride

And she is crown'd with wood-buds and young grass,
And balmy-breath'd as any country lass.

But for her gesture free and queenly mild
You had thought her a wood-girl, caged but wild.

No one is she of that brood unconfined,
A lonely presence without peer or kind.

But as the breathless glory when day breaks
Holds men, so all men's longing Hymnia takes.

So shy withal is she, and burning-pure,
Few find her, and few dare that only sure

Footway that leads through thicket, holt, and brake
To Hymnia's altar by the forest lake.

But they that toil, and carry in their hands
Clear offering, may see her where she stands

Recluse as violets, with dewy eyes
And bashful welcome and shy glad surprise,

At this, the time she best loves, when the earth
Quickens and throbs to put off winter dearth.

Through windy valleys now, like driven flame,
See her host flutter, calling her by name:—

‘Hymnia, ah, Hymnia, thou pure Maid,
Come, for the earth is green, be not afraid!’

Then she, demurely stoled in thoughtful youth,
Leadeth her homely pageant to the South;

And after her this bridal company
Of youths and virgins suddenly let free,

Kissed on to frolic by the ardent wind,
Yet keeping innocence and honest mind.

For Hymnia's priest and priestess shall not fire
With any love but love of her desire;

And her desire being all for wholesomeness,
Desire in them is rein'd by her duress.

Now go ye to your homes, the rites are done;
And going, pray speed on the year begun.