TO A BRIDE.

Pass thou on! for the vow is said

That is never broken;

The hand of blessing hath, trembling, laid

On snowy forehead and simple braid,

And the word is spoken

By lips that never their words betray'd.

Pass thou on! for thy human all

Is richly given,

And the voice that claim'd its holy thrall

Must be sweeter for life than music's fall,

And, this side Heaven,

Thy lip may never that trust recal.

Pass thou on! yet many an eye

Will droop and glisten;

And the hushing heart in vain will try

To still its pulse as thy step goes by

And we “vainly listen

For thy voice of witching melody.”

Pass thou on! yet a sister's tone

In its sweetness lingers,

Like some twin echo sent back alone,

Or the bird's soft note when its mate hath flown,

And a sister's fingers

Will again o'er the thrilling harp be thrown.

And our eyes will rest on their foreheads fair,

And our hearts awaken

Whenever we come where their voices are —

But oh, we shall think how musical were,

Ere of thee forsaken,

The mingled voices we listed there.

Pass on! there is not of our blessings one

That may not perish —

Like visiting angels whose errand is done,

They are never at rest till their home is won,

And we may not cherish

The beautiful gift of thy light — Pass on!