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.