IV

Let the wide light come through the whole house now

Like a herald with brow

Garlanded round with roses and those leaves

That love for its love weaves!

Between her and the ceiling this day's ending

A man's weight will be bending.

Lo! with the thought her legs she twines, well knowing

A hand will part them then;

Fearing that entering in her, that allowing

That will make softness begin rude at pain.

If ye, glad sunbeams, are inhabited

By sprites or gnomes that dally with the day,

Whisper her, if she shrink that she'll be bled,

That love's large bower is doored in this small way.

V

Now will her grave of untorn maidenhood

Be dug in her small blood.

Assemble ye at that glad funeral

And weave her scarlet pall,

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