Hail Bishop Valentine

[poliphilo]

Hail Bishop Valentine, whose day this is,
All the air is thy diocese,
And all the chirping choristers
And other birds are thy parishioners,
Thou marriest each year
The lyric lark and the grave whispering dove,
The sparrow that neglects his life for love,
The household bird with the red stomacher,
Thou mak'st the black bird speed as soon
As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon;
The husband cock looks out and straight is sped
And meets his wife, which brings her feather bed.
This day more cheerfully than ever shine,
This day which might enflame thyself, old Valentine.

John Donne.

Comments

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Oh dear....

I think it's rather a pretty word. Though all those "f"s make one feel as if one's mouth is full of feathers.