Sonnet XVI: Who Shall Invoke Her

Alan Seeger

Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest,

With single rites the common debt to pay?

On some green headland fronting to the East

Our fairest boy shall kneel at break of day.

Naked, uplifting in a laden tray

New milk and honey and sweet-tinctured wine,

Not without twigs of clustering apple-spray

To wreath a garland for Our Lady’s shrine.

The morning planet poised above the sea

Shall drop sweet influence through her drowsing lid;

Dew-drenched, his delicate virginity

Shall scarce disturb the flowers he kneels amid,

That, waked so lightly, shall lift up their eyes,

Cushion his knees, and nod between his thighs.