Wreath for a Bridal What though green leaves only witness Such pact as is made once only; what matter That owl voice sole 'yes', while cows utter Low moos of approve; let sun surpliced in brightness Stand stock still to laud these mated ones Whose stark act all coming double luck joins. Couched daylong in cloisters of stinging nettle They lie, cut-grass assaulting each seperate sense With savor; coupled so, pure paragons of constance, This pair seek single state from that dual battle. Now speak some sacrament to parry scruple For wedlock wrought within love's proper chapel. Call here with flying colors all watchful birds To people the twigged aisles; lead babel tongues Of animals to choir:'Look what thresh of wings Wields guard of honor over these!' Starred with words Let night bless that luck-rooted mead of clover Where, bedded like angels, two burn one in fever. From this holy day on, all pollen blown Shall strew broadcast so rare a seed on wind That every breath, thus teeming, set the land Sprout fruit, flowers, children most fair in legion To slay spawn of dragon's teeth: speaking this promise, Let flesh be knit, and each step hence go famous. --Sylvia Plath --

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