Be there all round the sound of gay bells ringing!

Let there be echoing singing!

Pour out like a libation all your joy!

Shout, even ye children, little maid and boy

Whose belly yet unfurred yet whitely decks

A sexless thing of sex!

Shout out as if ye knew what joy this is

You clap at in such bliss!

XII

This is the month and this the day.

Ye must not stay.

Sally ye out and in warm clusters move

To where beyond the trees the belfry's height

Does in the blue wide heaven a message prove,

Somewhat calm, of delight.

Now flushed and whispering loud sally ye out

To church! The sun pours on the ordered rout,

And all their following eyes clasp round the bride:

They feel like hands her bosom and her side;

Like the inside of the vestment next her skin,

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