The Parting And Returning Bride
by Lydia Howard Sigourney
From her father's home, in her beauty's bloom
Went forth the youthful bride --
A holy smile on her trusting brow,
And her lov'd one by her side.
Though fair was that home, in its vernal pride,
Yet brief was the parting tear,
For the arm of the chosen was round her thrown,
And his voice to her heart was dear.
So another dwelling she fondly wreath'd
With the charm of a woman's love,
With the hope that doth bud in the secret heart,
And the faith that hath fruit above.
Once more to her father's gate she came,
To the wealth of her native vale,
The holy smile on her brow the same,
But that brow like a lily pale.
No word to the longing ear she spake,
She sooth'd not the friend who wept,
For on her arm was a pallid babe,
And the same deep sleep they slept.
They made them a bed in the churchyard green
Ere the autumn leaf was sere,
Aud the riven turf as it droop'd that day
Was damp with the mourners' tear.
Yet gain'd they not as a gift of love,
A glimpse thro' the crystal sky,
Of the bride and her babe in the bliss above,
Where the beautiful cannot die!
Source:The Weeping Willow
Henry S. Parsons, Hartford.