From Citron-Bower
From citron-bower be her bed,
Cut from branch of tree a-flower,
Fashioned for her maidenhead.
From Lydian apples, sweet of hue,
Cut the width of board and lathe,
Carve the feet from myrtle-wood.
Let the palings of her bed
Be quince and box-wood overlaid
With the scented bark of yew.
That all the wood in blossoming,
May calm her heart and cool her blood,
For losing of her maidenhood.
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