The Fairy Bridal Hymn

THIS is a song to the white-armed oneCold in the breast as the frost-wrapped Spring,Whose feet are slow on the hills of life,Whose round mouth rules by whispering.

This is a song to the white-armed oneWhose breast shall burn as a Summer field,Whose wings shall rise to the doors of gold,Whose poppy lips to the God shall yield.

This is a song to the white-armed oneWhen the closing rose shall bind her fast,And a song of the song their blood shall sing,When the Rose-God drinks her soul at last.