Poetry Archives

The ring is on my hand,
  And the wreath is on my brow;
Satins and jewels grand
Are all at my command.
  And I am happy now.

And my lord he loves me well;
  But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my bosom swell—
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell
In the battle down the dell,
  And who is happy now.

But he spoke to reassure me,
  And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o’er me,
And to the churchyard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D’Elormie,
  “Oh, I am happy now!”

And thus the words were spoken,
  And thus the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Behold the golden keys
  That proves me happy now!

Would to God I could awaken
  For I dream I know not how,
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken,—
Lest the dead who is forsaken
  May not be happy now.