 | My Lyrical Life |  |
41
THE MAIDEN MARRIAGE.
She sat in her virgin bower,
Half sad with fancies sweet,
And wist not Love drew softly nigh,
Till she nestled at his feet.
“Arise, arise, thou fair Maiden;
And adieu, adieu, thou dear!
But meet me, meet me at the Kirk,
In the May-time of the year.”
Half sad with fancies sweet,
And wist not Love drew softly nigh,
Till she nestled at his feet.
“Arise, arise, thou fair Maiden;
And adieu, adieu, thou dear!
But meet me, meet me at the Kirk,
In the May-time of the year.”
Up in her face of holy grace
The startled splendour broke;
Her smile was as a dream of heaven
Fulfilled whene'er she spoke.
She felt such bliss in her beauty,
Such pleasure in her power
To richly clothe her perfect love
For a peerless marriage dower.
The startled splendour broke;
Her smile was as a dream of heaven
Fulfilled whene'er she spoke.
She felt such bliss in her beauty,
Such pleasure in her power
To richly clothe her perfect love
For a peerless marriage dower.
“Now kiss me, kiss me, Mother dear;
He calls me, I must go!”
She went to the Kirk at tryste-time,
In raiment like the snow.
But he who clasped her there was Death;
And he hath led her where
No voice is heard, there is no breath
Upon the frosty air.
He calls me, I must go!”
She went to the Kirk at tryste-time,
In raiment like the snow.
But he who clasped her there was Death;
And he hath led her where
No voice is heard, there is no breath
Upon the frosty air.
| My Lyrical Life | |