Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest, <br />With single rites the common debt to pay? <br />On some green headland fronting to the East <br />Our fairest boy shall kneel at break of day. <br />Naked, uplifting in a laden tray <br />New milk and honey and sweet-tinctured wine, <br />Not without twigs of clustering apple-spray <br />To wreath a garland for Our Lady's shrine. <br />The morning planet poised above the sea <br />Shall drop sweet influence through her drowsing lid; <br />Dew-drenched, his delicate virginity <br />Shall scarce disturb the flowers he kneels amid, <br />That, waked so lightly, shall lift up their eyes, <br />Cushion his knees, and nod between his thighs.<br /><br />Alan Seeger<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xvi-who-shall-invoke-her/
