Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest,
With single rites the common debt to pay?
On some green headland fronting to the
Our fairest boy shall kneel at break of day.
Naked, uplifting in a laden
New milk and honey and sweet-tinctured wine,
Not without twigs of clustering
To wreath a garland for Our Lady's shrine.
The morning planet poised above the
Shall drop sweet influence through her drowsing lid;
Dew-drenched, his delicate
Shall scarce disturb the flowers he kneels amid,
That, waked so lightly, shall lift up their eyes,
Cushion his knees, and nod between his thighs.
Composition date is unknown - the above date represents the first publication date.
The lyrical form of this poem is ababbcbcdedeff.
