Lady of rich
allure1,
Queen of the spring's embrace,
Your arms are long like
boughs2 of ash,
Mid3 laugh-broken streams, spirit of rain unsure,
Breath of the poppy flower,
All the wood thy
bower4 And the hills thy dwelling-place.
This will I no more dream;
Warm is thy arm's allure,
Warm is the
gust5 of breath
That ere thy lips meet mine
Kisseth my cheek and saith:
"This is the joy of earth,
Here is the wine of mirth
Drain ye one
goblet6 sure,
Take ye the honey cup
The honied song raise up,
Drink of the spring's allure,
April and dew and rain;
Brown of the earth sing sure,
Cheeks and lips and hair
And soft breath that kisseth where
Thy lips have come not yet to drink."
Moss7 and the mold of earth,
These be thy couch of mirth,
Long arms thy boughs of shade
April-alluring, as the blade
Of grass doth catch the dew
And make it crown to hold the sun.
Banner be you
Above my head,
Glory to all wold display'd,
April-alluring, glory-bold.
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