songs of birds,
Lowings of well-pastured herds;
Hailed by childhood's happy looks,
Cheered by anthems of the brooks--
Chants beyond the lore of books--
Cawing crows, instead of rooks.
Glowed the heavens--rose the sun,
Mariline was up, for one.
VI.
Like a chatterer tongue-tied,
Lo, the wheel is placed aside!--
Not from indolence or pride--
Mariline must be a Bride!
Fairest maid of maids terrene!
Bride of Brides, dear Mariline!
VII.
Up the meditative air
Passed the smoke-wreaths, white and fair,
Like the spirit of the prayer
Mariline now offered there:
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Passed behind the cottage eaves,
Curling through the maple leaves:
Through the pines and old elm trees,
Belies of past centuries,
Hardy oaks, that never breeze
Humbled to their gnarly knees:
Forest lords, beneath whose sheen
Flowers bloomed for Mariline.
Round the cottage, fresh and green,
Climbed the vine, the scarlet bean,
Morning-glories peeped between,
Looking out for Mariline.
Odours never felt before
Tranced the locust at the door,
Vieing with the mignonette
Bound the garden parapet,
Whose rare fragrances were met
By rich perfumes, rarer yet,
Stealing from the garden walks,
Sentineled with hollyhocks.
VIII.
What a heaven the cottage seemed!
Love's own temple, where Faith dreamed
Of the coming years that beamed
On them, as pale stars have gleamed
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Through unnavigated seas,
To which the prophetic breeze
Whispered of a future day,
When swift fleets would urge their way,
Through the waters cold and gray,
Like the dolphins at their play.
There the future Bride, and he,
Prince of love's knight-errantry,
Whose good shepherd arms must hold
This pet yeanling of the fold,
Gift of God so long foretold,
Gift beyond the price of gold.
There the parents, aged and hale,
Passing down life's autumn vale,
With a joy as rare and true
As their daughter's eye of blue,
With such hopes as reach up to
Heaven's gate, when, passing through,
Peris, bound for higher skies,
Win the Celestial Paradise.
IX.
Thoughtfully stood Mariline,
Whitely veiled, and soul-serene;
Love's fair world for her demesne,
Never looked she more a queen--
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With her maidens by her side,
Smiling on the coming bride.
Her pet lamb, with comic mirth,
Licked her ha
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