I. <br /> The day is curl'd about agen <br /> To view the splendor she was in; <br /> When first with hallow'd hands <br />The holy man knit the mysterious bands <br />When you two your contracted souls did move <br /> Like cherubims above, <br /> And did make love, <br />As your un-understanding issue now, <br />In a glad sigh, a smile, a tear, a vow. <br /> <br /> II. <br /> Tell me, O self-reviving Sun, <br /> In thy perigrination <br /> Hast thou beheld a pair <br />Twist their soft beams like these in their chast air? <br />As from bright numberlesse imbracing rayes <br /> Are sprung th' industrious dayes, <br /> So when they gaze, <br />And change their fertile eyes with the new morn, <br />A beauteous offspring is shot forth, not born. <br /> <br /> III. <br /> Be witness then, all-seeing Sun, <br /> Old spy, thou that thy race hast run <br /> In full five thousand rings; <br />To thee were ever purer offerings <br />Sent on the wings of Faith? and thou, O Night, <br /> Curtain of their delight, <br /> By these made bright, <br />Have you not mark'd their coelestial play, <br />And no more peek'd the gayeties of day? <br /> <br /> IV. <br /> Come then, pale virgins, roses strow, <br /> Mingled with Ios as you go. <br /> The snowy ox is kill'd, <br />The fane with pros'lyte lads and lasses fill'd, <br />You too may hope the same seraphic joy, <br /> Old time cannot destroy, <br /> Nor fulnesse cloy; <br />When, like these, you shall stamp by sympathies <br />Thousands of new-born-loves with your chaste eyes.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-anniversary-on-the-hymeneals-of-my-noble-kins-2/
