Classic Poem

The girls of Greece made merry at the marriage in the May
When the maiden bride was wedded mid the scent of hawthorn-spray,
While the altar flamed with torches that had thickened on the thorn,
And Athena condescended to approve the wedding-morn.

I know an Irish maiden who was merry in the May,
When we stood beneath the hawthorn on a flowery holiday.
Our hearts were wedded silently, and wafted on the wind,
Came love with all the favours he bestows when he is kind.

The vows of our betrothal made the hawthorn tree a shrine,
Where the birds, with bridal voices, sang their love and sang of mine;
The odour of the blossoms made an incense in the place,
And the sunbeams threw their radiance on her sweet wee Irish face.

A bunch of valley-lilies hung like pearls upon her breast,
And I held a blue-bell posy I had gathered from the rest;
We mixed the pearly lilies and the blue-bells, and I know
We mingled all our treasures, like the flowers, a year ago.