NOw is my loue all ready forth to come, <br />Let all the virgins therefore well awayt, <br />And ye fresh boyes that tend vpon her groome <br />Prepare your selues; for he is comming strayt. <br />Set all your things in seemely good aray <br />Fit for so ioyfull day, <br />The ioyfullst day that euer sunne did see <br />Faire Sun, shew forth thy fauourable ray, <br />And let thy lifull heat not feruent be <br />For feare of burning her sunshyny face, <br />Her beauty to disgrace. <br />O fayrest Phoebus, father of the Muse, <br />If euer I did honour thee aright, <br />Or sing the thing, that mote thy mind delight, <br />Doe not thy seruants simple boone refuse, <br />But let this day let this one day be myne, <br />Let all the rest be thine. <br />Then I thy souerayne prayses loud wil sing, <br />That all the woods shal answer and theyr eccho ring.<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-7-2/
