To deck thy loveliness, and make appear
The fullness of the beauty thou dost wear:
But let no crown thy golden head dethrone
Except the coronal of wisdom’s own.
Fare forth, fair Bride, and from thy chamber come,
Lo! they are waiting who shall lead thee home:
The winged procession of the eager Hours,
Before thy feet to pave the way with flowers;
The Daughters of the Year, the Seasons Four,
Have decked the happy earth with sun and shower;