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Dinah Maria Mulock - Mary’s Wedding
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February 25th, 1851.

YOU are to be married, Mary; 
This hour as I wakeful lie 
In the dreamy dawn of the morning, 
Your wedding hour draws nigh; 
Miles off, you are rising, dressing, 
Your bridemaidens gay among, 
In the same old house we played in,-- 
You and I, when we were young. 

Your bridemaids--they were our playmates: 
Those known rooms, every wall, 
Could speak of our childish frolics, 
Loves, jealousies, great and small: 
Do you mind how pansies changed we 
And smiled at the word "forget"?-- 
`T was a girl`s romance: yet somehow 
I have kept my pansy yet. 

Do you mind our poems written 
Together? our dreams of fame-- 
And of love--how we`d share all secrets 
When that sweet mystery came? 
It is no mystery now, Mary; 
It was unveiled, year by year, 
Till--this is your marriage morning; 
And I rest quiet here. 

I cannot call up your face, Mary, 
The face of the bride to-day: 
You have outgrown my knowledge, 
The years have so slipped away. 
I see but your girlish likeness, 
Brown eyes and brown falling hair;-- 
God knows, I did love you dearly, 
And was proud that you were fair. 

Many speak my name, Mary, 
While yours in home`s silence lies: 

The future I read in toil`s guerdon, 
You will read in your children`s eyes: 
The past--the same past with either-- 
Is to you a delightsome scene, 
But I cannot trace it clearly 
For the graves that rise between. 

I am glad you are happy, Mary! 
These tears, could you see them fall, 
Would show, though you have forgotten, 
I have remembered all. 
And though my cup may be empty 
While yours is all running o`er, 
Heaven keep you its sweetness, Mary, 
Brimming for evermore.
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