  IThere is a light around your head Which only Saints of God may wear, And all the flowers on which you tread In pleasaunce more than ours have fed, And supped the essential air Whose summer is a-pulse with music everywhere. IIFor you are younger than the mornings are That in the mountains break; When upland shepherds see their only star Pale on the dawn, and make In his surcease the hours, The early hours of all their happy circuit take. |
|
