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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536351" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Wedding March</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536351" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Clash your cymbals, maids, to--day.<br>Chaunt the praise of Cynthia.<br>You, her virgins, yokeless, free,<br>Young Time's choice, his brides--to--be.<br>Nymphs in white, who hand in hand<br>Next to her high altar stand,<br>Take your timbrels, strike your strings;<br>Tune them to Love's clamourings.<br>Heralds be of her your fairest,<br>Her of rarities the rarest.<br>Instant all her laud rehearse,<br>Idol of your universe;<br>And thus armed stand forth and say,<br>``All is nought but Cynthia.''</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536351" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Clash your cymbals. Beat your drums.<br>Cynthia in her glory comes,<br>High with him whose duty is<br>Her to lead to a new bliss.<br>Ah, what fortune his to be<br>Angel of her ecstasy!<br>Red with roses Love's path lies,<br>Rich in rainbows of surprise.<br>They that tread it wiser are<br>Than the wise kings with their star,<br>Eve and morn who went pursuing<br>Eve's old hopes to Time's undoing,<br>Robbing Time of his vain wrath.<br>Run to Love; take all he hath,<br>Idle maids! Nay, shout and sing,<br>In Love's praise new chorusing,<br>Stintless this thrice happy day.<br>Shout aloud for Cynthia!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>