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Paul Laurence Dunbar - A Bridal Measure
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Come, essay a sprightly measure,
  Tuned to some light song of pleasure.
    Maidens, let your brows be crowned
    As we foot this merry round.

  From the ground a voice is singing,
  From the sod a soul is springing.
    Who shall say `t is but a clod
    Quick`ning upward toward its God?

  Who shall say it? Who may know it,
  That the clod is not a poet
    Waiting but a gleam to waken
    In a spirit music-shaken?

  Phyllis, Phyllis, why be waiting?
  In the woods the birds are mating.
    From the tree beside the wall,
    Hear the am`rous robin call.

  Listen to yon thrush`s trilling;
  Phyllis, Phyllis, are you willing,
    When love speaks from cave and tree,
    Only we should silent be?

  When the year, itself renewing,
  All the world with flowers is strewing,
    Then through Youth`s Arcadian land,
    Love and song go hand in hand.

  Come, unfold your vocal treasure,
  Sing with me a nuptial measure,--
    Let this springtime gambol be
    Bridal dance for you and me.
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