Love’S Garland

YOUNG Love with rosy wings came through a mead, Whereon before the feet of spring had gone, Along a slender brook that wound and shone By stems made bright with blooms of fruitful deed. He gathered as he went of such fair seed As Spring upon her grassy ways had sown, And in his fingers wove a garland crown That faded not, or drooped or died for need.

Full soon the stream had brought him to a space Of orchard green, where maidens sweet were met With Time’s frail gifts around his dial stone; And, these among, thou sat’st in such sweet grace, That, seeing thee, Love on thy dear head set His magic wreath and crowned thee on my throne.