 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
Musing sat,
The legend of that Bridal at an end,
Long time those watchers. Lastly rose a knight,
The youngest of that company elect,
Silent till then, and slender as a maid;
With countenance innocent as childhood's self
Yet venerable as a priest's grey-haired.
He spake: ‘A bridal then, and now a death,
A short glad space between them! Such is life!
That means our earthly life is but betrothal;
The marriage is where marriage vows are none.
Lo there! once more the altar lights flash forth:
That Widow-Wife, five months a Maiden-Wife,
Kneels 'mid their splendour.’ Eastward moved the knights,
And, kneeling near the altar, with the monks
Entoned the Miserere.
The legend of that Bridal at an end,
Long time those watchers. Lastly rose a knight,
The youngest of that company elect,
Silent till then, and slender as a maid;
With countenance innocent as childhood's self
Yet venerable as a priest's grey-haired.
He spake: ‘A bridal then, and now a death,
A short glad space between them! Such is life!
That means our earthly life is but betrothal;
The marriage is where marriage vows are none.
Lo there! once more the altar lights flash forth:
That Widow-Wife, five months a Maiden-Wife,
Kneels 'mid their splendour.’ Eastward moved the knights,
And, kneeling near the altar, with the monks
Entoned the Miserere.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |