1861 Apr 7


Emily F. Jones
April 7, 1861

To A Lady On Her Marriage

They tell me, gentle lady, that they deck thee for a bride,
That the wreath is woven for thy hair, and the bridegroom by thy side
And they give thee to another’s arms –
Their beautiful – their own;

And it always seemed to me as though a joyous crowd were met,
To see the saddest sight of all, a gay and girlish thing,
Lay aside her maiden gladness –
For a name – and for a ring;

And when I think how often I have seen thee with thy mild
And lovely look, and step of air, and laughing like a child,
Oh! how mournfully, how morosely the thought,
When I think thou ne’er mayest be that free,
And joyous thing again;

When thy foot is at the altar when the ring hath pressed thy hand,
Those thou lovest, and that best love thee, weeping around thee stand;
May the rhyme that friendship weaves, like a spirit of the air
Be o’er thee at that moment,
For a blessing and a prayer.