27
AN ANNIVERSARY
HE
Bright, my belovèd, be thy day,
This eve of Summer’s fall:
And Autumn mass his flowers gay
To crown thy festival!
SHE
I care not if the morn be bright,
Living in thy love-rays:
No flower I need for my delight,
Being crownèd with thy praise.
HE
O many years and joyfully
This sun to thee return;
Ever all men speak well of thee,
SHE
For length of life I would not pray,
If thy life were to seek;
Nor ask what men and angels say
But when of thee they speak.
HE
Arise! The sky hath heard my song,
The flowers o’erhear thy praise;
And little loves are waking long
To wish thee happy days.