| |
| NO, not in the halls of the noble and proud, | |
| Where Fashion assembles her glittering crowd, | |
| Where all is in beauty and splendor arrayed, | |
| Were the nuptials performed of the meek Quaker maid. | |
| |
| Nor yet in the temple those rites which she took,— | 5 |
| By the altar, the mitre-crowned bishop and book, | |
| Where oft in her jewels stands proudly the bride, | |
| Unawed by those vows which through life shall abide. | |
| |
| The building was humble, but sacred to One | |
| Who heeds the deep worship that utters no tone; | 10 |
| Whose presence is not to the temple confined, | |
| But dwells with the contrite and lowly of mind. | |
| |
| ’T was there, all unveiled, save by modesty, stood | |
| The Quakeress bride, in her white satin hood: | |
| Her charms unadorned by the garland or gem, | 15 |
| Yet fair as the lily just plucked from its stem. | |
| |
| A tear glistened bright in her dark shaded eye, | |
| And her bosom half uttered a tremulous sigh, | |
| As the hand she had pledged was confidingly given, | |
| And the low murmured words were recorded in heaven. | 20 |
| |
| I ’ve been at the bridal where wealth spread the board, | |
| Where the sparkling red wine in rich goblets was poured; | |
| Where the priest in his surplice from ritual read, | |
| And the solemn response was impressively said. | |
| |
| I ’ve seen the fond sire, in his thin locks of gray, | 25 |
| Give the pride of his heart to the bridegroom away; | |
| While he brushed the big tear from his deep furrowed cheek, | |
| And bowed the assent which his lips might not speak. | |
| |
| But in all the array of the costlier scene, | |
| Naught seemed to my eye so sincere in its mien, | 30 |
| No language so fully the heart to resign, | |
| As the Quakeress bride’s—“Until death I am thine!” | |
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