That flowers one before the other press
To be the first to kiss that forehead fair;
Her gown all day puts on a blithesome air,
Clingeth, then floweth free for happiness;
Her meshèd net rejoiceth to caress
The cheek whereby it lies, and nestle there;
More fortunate, her golden-pointed lace
Taketh her breathing in as close a hold
As if it cherished what it may enfold;
And simple zone that doth her waist embrace