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Poem	Lady of rich allure, Queen of the spring's embrace, Your arms are long like boughs of ash, Mid laugh-broken streams, spirit of rain unsure, Breath of the poppy flower, All the wood thy bower And the hills thy dwelling-place. This will I no more dream; Warm is thy arm's allure, Warm is the gust 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 goblet 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." Moss 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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