GATHER her raven hair in one rich cluster, Let the white champac light it, as a star Gives to the dusky night a sudden lustre, Shining afar. Shed fragrant oils upon her fragrant bosom, Until the breathing air around grows sweet; Scatter the languid jasmine's yellow blossom Beneath her feet. Those small white feet are bare -- too soft are they To tread on aught but flowers; and there is roll'd Round the slight ankle, meet for such display, The band of gold. Chains and bright stones are on her arms and neck; What pleasant vanities are linked with them, Of happy hours, which youth delights to deck With gold and gem. She comes! So comes the Moon, when she has found A silvery path wherein thro' heaven to glide. Fling the white veil -- a summer cloud -- around; She is a bride! And yet the crowd that gather at her side Are pale, and every gazer holds his breath. Eyes fill with tears unbidden, for the bride -- The bride of Death! She gives away the garland from her hair, She gives the gems that she will wear no more; All the affections, whose love-signs they were, Are gone before. The red pile blazes -- let the bride ascend, And lay her head upon her husband's heart, Now in a perfect unison to blend -- No more to part. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE PHILOSOPHER by EMILY JANE BRONTE TAPESTRY TREES by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) THE QUESTION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY PRIVATE DEVOTION by PHOEBE HINSDALE BROWN EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN DEANE, OF NEW COLLEGE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |