A Ninth Birthday
Three times thrice hath winter's rough white wingCrossed and curdled wells and streams with iceSince his birth whose praises love would singThree times thrice.
Earth nor sea bears flower nor pearl of priceFit to crown the forehead of my king,Honey meet to please him, balm, nor spice.
Love can think of nought but love to bringFit to serve or do him sacrificeEre his eyes have looked upon the springThree times thrice.
II.
Three times thrice the world has fallen on slumber,Shone and waned and withered in a trice,Frost has fettered Thames and Tyne and HumberThree times thrice,
Fogs have swoln too thick for steel to slice,Cloud and mud have soiled with grime and umberEarth and heaven, defaced as souls with vice,
Winds have risen to wreck, snows fallen to cumber,Ships and chariots, trapped like rats or mice,Since my king first smiled, whose years now numberThree times thrice.
III.
Three times thrice, in wine of song full-flowing,Pledge, my heart, the child whose eyes suffice,Once beheld, to set thy joy-bells goingThree times thrice.
Not the lands of palm and date and riceGlow more bright when summer leaves them glowing,Laugh more light when suns and winds entice.
Noon and eve and midnight and cock-crowing,Child whose love makes life as paradise,Love should sound your praise with clarions blowingThree times thrice.
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