Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge | ||
15
THERE'S A WEDDING IN THE ORCHARD.
There's a wedding in the orchard,
I know it by the flowers;
They 're wreathed on every bough and branch,
Or falling down in showers.
I know it by the flowers;
They 're wreathed on every bough and branch,
Or falling down in showers.
The air is in a mist, I think,
And scarce knows which to be—
Whether all fragrance, clinging close,
Or bird-song, wild and free.
And scarce knows which to be—
Whether all fragrance, clinging close,
Or bird-song, wild and free.
And countless wedding-jewels shine,
And golden gifts of grace;
I never saw such wealth of sun
In any shady place.
And golden gifts of grace;
I never saw such wealth of sun
In any shady place.
It seemed I heard the fluttering robes
Of maidens clad in white,
The clasping of a thousand hands
In tenderest delight;
Of maidens clad in white,
16
In tenderest delight;
While whispers ran among the boughs
Of promises and praise;
And playful, loving messages
Sped through the leaf-lit ways.
Of promises and praise;
And playful, loving messages
Sped through the leaf-lit ways.
Then were there swayings to and fro;
The weeds a-tiptoe rose;
And sang the breeze a sudden song
That sank to sudden close;
The weeds a-tiptoe rose;
And sang the breeze a sudden song
That sank to sudden close;
And just beyond the wreathèd aisles
That end against the blue,
The raiment of the silent choir
And priest came shining through.
That end against the blue,
The raiment of the silent choir
And priest came shining through.
And though I saw no wedding-guest,
Nor groom, nor gentle bride,
I know that holy things were said,
And holy love replied.
Nor groom, nor gentle bride,
I know that holy things were said,
And holy love replied.
17
Soon will the lengthening shadows move
Unwillingly away,
Like friends who linger with adieux
Yet are not bid to stay.
Unwillingly away,
Like friends who linger with adieux
Yet are not bid to stay.
I follow with the vesper bird,
And hear its soft “good-night,”
Still thinking of the wedding-scene
And aisles of flowery light.
And hear its soft “good-night,”
Still thinking of the wedding-scene
And aisles of flowery light.
Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge | ||