Lady of rich allure¹,
Queen of the spring's embrace,
Your arms are long like boughs² of ash,
Mid³ laugh-broken streams, spirit of rain unsure,
Breath of the poppy flower,
All the wood thy bower⁴
And the hills thy dwelling-place.

This will I no more dream;
Warm is thy arm's allure,
Warm is the gust⁵ of breath
That ere thy lips meet mine
Kisseth my cheek and saith:
"This is the joy of earth,
Here is the wine of mirth
Drain ye one goblet⁶ sure,

Take ye the honey cup
The honied song raise up,
Drink of the spring's allure,
April and dew and rain;
Brown of the earth sing sure,
Cheeks and lips and hair
And soft breath that kisseth where
Thy lips have come not yet to drink."

Moss⁷ and the mold of earth,
These be thy couch of mirth,
Long arms thy boughs of shade
April-alluring, as the blade
Of grass doth catch the dew
And make it crown to hold the sun.
Banner be you
Above my head,
Glory to all wold display'd,
April-alluring, glory-bold.

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