Bundle Up My Sighs

They ask me for to mourn
Because she that was fair
Is fair no more, but Time has etched
With acid pen across her brow
His signature;
In spite of him I do rejoice
Because for have I seen
Her youth restored and grace
Change cherry-white of every thorn,
And daylight like a hummingbird
Drinking the nectar of her eyes;
But still for now the funeral chime goes on,
And the old men have wisdom in their eyes,
And the old women in each brow
Deport like newborn stars;
So count and bundle up my sighs;
Forth does the horse upon the dawn called Joy
With mane of colour wheaten ride;
And like an aisle of oaks the college of the scribes
Lay down the palm fronds of their singing minds;
But trust that he who sows a stone shall reap a gem,
And he that buys an ox shall tread upon the wind,
And I that now to you bring my three tears
Because that she was fair and is no more,
Foresightful am and filled enough with hope,
For I have seen her fair forevermore
With nets of diamond tangled in her hair,
And so I say to them, rejoice,
When they ask me to mourn.