SWEET MARY! in thy merry eye,
I see a happy spirit shine:
Joy, innocence, and heaven-born truth,
A mingled wreath for thee entwine.
No cloudy glooms e'er dim the smiles
That o'er thy lovely features play,
No earthly storm e'er darkened all
The dewy brightness of thy day.
Far be the cankered care that rusts
So oft the light and buoyant heart;
Far be the stinging pang of grief,
And disappointment's aching smart ;
Death's wounding thorn and rankling weed,
That make so many bosoms bleed.
Those curling locks of waving gold,
That on thy snowy temples play,
Will one day tarnish in the mould—
May one day in old age turn gray.
But ere the silky ringlets fade,
May a wide round of sunny years
Be thine, without a passing shade
To cast a sadness o'er thy way.
The lily and the snow-white rose
Emblems of innocent delight-
Be woven in a chaplet green,
For that young brow, so purely white,-
May they, all beauty and perfume,
Flourish in undecaying bloom.
A sparkling hoop of burnished gold,
Encircles that well-rounded arm-
An emblem of the spotless truth
That keeps thy innocence from harm.
Rich gems of many-blended hues
Are with the fretted gold enwrought:
Diamonds from the dusky mine,
Pearls from the ocean cavern brought;
The ruby shows its glowing flame,
The emerald, its lively green,
The amethyst, its purple light,
The opal bright, its rainbow sheen:
Fair emblems are they, all combined,
Of the pure graces of thy mind.
A fair youth on some gentle eve, Where thick the honeysuckles grew, When only the round moon looked on, Or the bright twinkling stars peeped through, With many a honied word of love, Enraptured, that pale forehead kiss'd, And, breathing the impassioned vow, That trinket clasped upon thy wrist. Rude were it to recall the blush, As thou the glittering gaud did'st take, Plighting thy troth to prize the gem Life-long, for the dear giver's sake,
Half yielding that fair form and face,
To the young lover's fond embrace.
It is not for the bard to tell,
The mutual promise given there, –
Together, all life's varied joys,
Together, all life's ills to share,—
For sacred is the blissful hour,
When lovers their full hearts confess,
And with irrevocable vows,
Exchange the mutual fond caress.
Soon at the altar may'st thou kneel,
In bridal garments fair arrayed,
Pure tears, but not from sorrow's fount,
Dimming those blue eyes with a shade,—
Thyself a beautiful young bride!
Blushing thy manly groom beside.
And when upon the pilgrimage Of life, your loving footsteps go, May the broad skies shine bright above, And earth smile fair and green below. Linked hand in hand, knit heart to heart, Young pilgrims, as ye onward fare! May life's thick wilderness of weeds, Show only flowers and fruitage rare; Each day a new delight present,
Each month some added blessing bring,
Each year some new-blown wreath of bliss
Upon the wedded couple fling;
Each year, as it careereth past,
Seeming more prosperous than the last.
And when the chills and frosts of age, Upon that beaming brow descend,
And those rich clustering locks shall wear
The cold white blossoms of life's end;
And when that taper waist shall lose
Its beauty in some coming year,
And when that blooming cheek is seamed
With wrinkles, as decay draws near,
And when that little arm no more,
May bear the gem that clasps it now;
When all of loveliness has pass'd
From that superb, imperial brow,
Sweetly and softly may thy glass
Of life, to its last moments pass!
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