A Wedding Song on St. Valentine’s Day

Hail, Bishop Valentine, whose day this is,

            All the air is thy diocese,

            And all the chirping choristers

And other birds are thy parishioners;

            Thou marriest every year

The lyric lark, and the grave whispering dove,

The sparrow that neglects his life for love,

The household bird with the red stomacher,

            Thou mak’st the blackbird speed as soon

As doth the goldfinch, or the halcyon;

The husband cock looks out, and straight is sped,

And meets his wife, who brings her feather-bed.

This day more cheerfully than ever shine,

This day, which might enflame thyself, old Valentine.

Till now, thou warm’dst with multiplying loves

            Two larks, two sparrows, or two doves;           

                        All that is nothing unto this,

For thou this day couplest two Phoenixes;

                        Thou mak’st a taper see

What the sun never saw, and what the Ark

(Which was of fowls and beasts the cage and park)

Did not contain, one bed contains, through thee,

                        Two Phoenixes, whose joined breasts

Are unto one another mutual nests,

Where motion kindles such fires as shall give

Young Phoenixes, and yet the old shall live.

Whose love and courage never shall decline,

But make the whole year through, thy day, O Valentine.

--John Donne