And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!

This is (mostly) a very sweet blessing.
Violets springing from one’s body is lovely and poetic.
But I’m hung up on unpolluted.
It’s hard to imagine that this “unpolluted” quality is unrelated to the virginity, maiden thing. Like – if she’d done the dirty deed with Hamlet (which maybe she did – we don’t know) then the violets would be like – nah. We’re good. This lady had sex – so no springing forth here.
Theoretically, the sense of pollution could be any sort of sin – but really, in young women, the only sin anyone really cares about is whether or not they had sex. Much to my frustration and dismay.

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