What shall I say of thee,
Flower all elusive, guarding alike from the rain and the sun
The mystical heart of thyself--
What shall I say of thee?
Hast thou some foe thou wouldst shun?
Art thou a shrine--the saint of the shrine--the pale pilgrim seeker?
Or else to the bee and the bold elf
Knowing the way of thee,
Art thou a chamber for feasting and revel, and do they purvey of thee
Honey, and wine in a beaker?
