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Richard Lovelace - An Anniversary On The Hymeneals Of My Noble kinsman, Tho. S
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                   I.
    The day is curl`d about agen
    To view the splendor she was in;
        When first with hallow`d hands
The holy man knit the mysterious bands
When you two your contracted souls did move
        Like cherubims above,
            And did make love,
As your un-understanding issue now,
In a glad sigh, a smile, a tear, a vow.

                  II.
    Tell me, O self-reviving Sun,
    In thy perigrination
        Hast thou beheld a pair
Twist their soft beams like these in their chast air?
As from bright numberlesse imbracing rayes
        Are sprung th` industrious dayes,
            So when they gaze,
And change their fertile eyes with the new morn,
A beauteous offspring is shot forth, not born.

                  III.
    Be witness then, all-seeing Sun,
    Old spy, thou that thy race hast run
        In full five thousand rings;
To thee were ever purer offerings
Sent on the wings of Faith? and thou, O Night,
        Curtain of their delight,
            By these made bright,
Have you not mark`d their coelestial play,
And no more peek`d the gayeties of day?

                  IV.
    Come then, pale virgins, roses strow,
    Mingled with Ios as you go.
        The snowy ox is kill`d,
The fane with pros`lyte lads and lasses fill`d,
You too may hope the same seraphic joy,
        Old time cannot destroy,
            Nor fulnesse cloy;
When, like these, you shall stamp by sympathies
Thousands of new-born-loves with your chaste eyes.
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