 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
172
TWO
We two will stand in the shadow here,
To see the bride as she passes by;
Ring soft and low, ring loud and clear,
Ye chiming bells that swing on high!
Look! look! she comes! The air grows sweet
With the fragrant breath of the orange blooms,
And the flowers she treads beneath her feet
Die in a flood of rare perfumes!
To see the bride as she passes by;
Ring soft and low, ring loud and clear,
Ye chiming bells that swing on high!
Look! look! she comes! The air grows sweet
With the fragrant breath of the orange blooms,
And the flowers she treads beneath her feet
Die in a flood of rare perfumes!
She comes! she comes! The happy bells
With joyous clamor fill the air,
While the great organ dies and swells,
Soaring to trembling heights of prayer!
Oh! rare are her robes of silken sheen,
And the pearls that gleam on her bosom's snow;
But rarer the grace of her royal mien,
Her hair's fine gold, and her cheek's young glow.
With joyous clamor fill the air,
While the great organ dies and swells,
Soaring to trembling heights of prayer!
Oh! rare are her robes of silken sheen,
And the pearls that gleam on her bosom's snow;
But rarer the grace of her royal mien,
Her hair's fine gold, and her cheek's young glow.
Dainty and fair as a folded rose,
Fresh as a violet dewy sweet,
Chaste as a lily, she hardly knows
That there are rough paths for other feet.
For Love hath shielded her; Honor kept
Watch beside her by night and day;
And Evil out from her sight hath crept,
Trailing its slow length far away.
Fresh as a violet dewy sweet,
Chaste as a lily, she hardly knows
That there are rough paths for other feet.
For Love hath shielded her; Honor kept
Watch beside her by night and day;
And Evil out from her sight hath crept,
Trailing its slow length far away.
Now in her perfect womanhood,
In all the wealth of her matchless charms,
Lovely and beautiful, pure and good,
She yields herself to her lover's arms.
Hark! how the jubilant voices ring!
Lo! as we stand in the shadow here,
While far above us the gay bells swing,
I catch the gleam of a happy tear!
In all the wealth of her matchless charms,
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She yields herself to her lover's arms.
Hark! how the jubilant voices ring!
Lo! as we stand in the shadow here,
While far above us the gay bells swing,
I catch the gleam of a happy tear!
The pageant is over. Come with me
To the other side of the town, I pray,
Ere the sun goes down in the darkening sea,
And night falls around us, chill and gray.
In the dim church porch an hour ago,
We waited the bride's fair face to see;
Now Life has a sadder sight to show,
A darker picture for you and me.
To the other side of the town, I pray,
Ere the sun goes down in the darkening sea,
And night falls around us, chill and gray.
In the dim church porch an hour ago,
We waited the bride's fair face to see;
Now Life has a sadder sight to show,
A darker picture for you and me.
No need to seek for the shadow here;
There are shadows lurking everywhere;
These streets in the brightest day are drear,
And black as the blackness of despair.
But this is the house. Take heed, my friend,
The stairs are rotten, the way is dim;
And up the flights, as we still ascend,
Creep stealthy phantoms dark and grim.
There are shadows lurking everywhere;
These streets in the brightest day are drear,
And black as the blackness of despair.
But this is the house. Take heed, my friend,
The stairs are rotten, the way is dim;
And up the flights, as we still ascend,
Creep stealthy phantoms dark and grim.
Enter this chamber. Day by day,
Alone in this chill and ghostly room,
A child—a woman—which is it, pray?—
Despairingly waits for the hour of doom!
Ah! as she wrings her hands so pale,
No gleam of a wedding ring you see;
There is nothing to tell. You know the tale—
God help her now in her misery!
Alone in this chill and ghostly room,
A child—a woman—which is it, pray?—
Despairingly waits for the hour of doom!
Ah! as she wrings her hands so pale,
No gleam of a wedding ring you see;
There is nothing to tell. You know the tale—
God help her now in her misery!
I dare not judge her. I only know
That love was to her a sin and a snare,
While to the bride of an hour ago
It brought all blessings its hands could bear!
I only know that to one it came
Laden with honor, and joy, and peace;
Its gifts to the other were woe and shame,
And a burning pain that shall never cease!
That love was to her a sin and a snare,
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It brought all blessings its hands could bear!
I only know that to one it came
Laden with honor, and joy, and peace;
Its gifts to the other were woe and shame,
And a burning pain that shall never cease!
I only know that the soul of one
Has been a pearl in a golden case;
That of the other a pebble thrown
Idly down in a way-side place,
Where all day long strange footsteps trod,
And the bold, bright sun drank up the dew!
Yet both were women. O righteous God,
Thou only canst judge between the two!
Has been a pearl in a golden case;
That of the other a pebble thrown
Idly down in a way-side place,
Where all day long strange footsteps trod,
And the bold, bright sun drank up the dew!
Yet both were women. O righteous God,
Thou only canst judge between the two!
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |