  THIS is the King’s Bride, Wonderful to behold, Wearing in calm pride Raiment of vair and gold. Once in a thousand years, Out of Eden Bower, Her peerless like appears, Fresh as a perfect flower. Pale as the lily’s white, Dark as the Mystic Rose, Bloom of the world’s delight In the King’s orchard close. What shall I bring the Queen? Strong men for her will; Bucklers on which to lean, Spears to harry and kill? Jewels of ancient note From East unto West, Pearls for her columned throat, A ruby for her breast? Silks out of Samarcand, Furs from the frozen deep, Perfumes from champak-land— Sighs of enchanted sleep? I SHALL bring the Queen praise Wrought into gracious song, Sweet as the dawn’s amaze, Loyal as years are long. I shall give the Queen fame When her treasures are rust, Making her beauty flame Out of the trodden dust. |
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