Written in Illustration of a Tableau Vivant br br br Is she not lovely! Oh! when, long ago, br My own dead mother gazed upon my face, br As I stood blushing near in bridal snow, br I had not half her beauty and her grace. br br Yet that fond mother praised, the world caressed, br And ONE adored me -- how shall HE who soon br Shall wear my gentle flower upon his breast, br Prize to its utmost worth the priceless boon? br br Shall he not gird her, guard her, make her rich, br (Not as the world is rich, in outward show,) br With all the love and watchful kindness which br A wise and tender manhood may bestow? br br Oh! I shall part from her with many tears, br My earthly treasure, pure and undefiled! br And not without a weight of anxious fears br For the new future of my darling child. br br And yet -- for well I know that virgin heart -- br No wifely duty will she leave undone; br Nor will her love neglect that woman's art br Which courts and keeps a love already won. br br In no light girlish levity she goes br Unto the altar where they wait her now, br But with a thoughtful, prayerful heart that knows br The solemn purport of a marriage vow. br br And she will keep, with all her soul's deep truth, br The lightest pledge which binds her love and life; br And she will be -- no less in age than youth br My noble child will be -- a noble wife. br br And he, her lover! husband! what of him? br Yes, he will shield, I think, my bud from blight! br Yet griefs will come -- enough! my eyes are dim br With tears I must not shed -- at least, to-night.