Poems (Holmes)/To a Bride

To a Bride.

'Tis sad, fair girl, to breathe
With thee a parting knell,
And from our circle lose
A form we've loved so well.

But change informs us now
Thy girlish years are o'er,
And we, alas! must part,
Perhaps to meet no more.

But thou hast well improved
Youth's swiftly gliding hours,
As bees the honey sip
In sunshine from the flowers.

And now an orange wreath
Encircles thy fair brow,
And we at the altar wait
To hear the bridal vow.

Oh may conjugal bliss
Thy path with roses strew,
And may thy chosen star -
Shine ever bright and true;

And pure affection yield
Its sweetest joys to thee,
And all the hours of life
Glide on in harmony.

May happiness increase
With each returning day,
And friendship's holy star,
Light, cheer thee on thy way.

But ere we say farewell,
Oh, hear our last request:
Still in thy heart give place
To us, thy bridal guest.