Now is the bride awaking. Lo! she starts

To feel the day is home

Whose too-near night will put two different hearts

To beat as near as flesh can let them come.

Guess how she joys in her feared going, nor opes

Her eyes for fear of fearing at her joy.

Now is the pained arrival of all hopes.

With the half-thought she scarce knows how to toy.

Oh, let her wait a moment or a day

And prepare for the fray

For which her thoughts not ever quite prepare!

With the real day's arrival she's half wroth.

Though she wish what she wants, she yet doth stay.

Her dreams yet merged are

In the slow verge of sleep, which idly doth

The accurate hope of things remotely mar.

II

Part from the windows the small curtains set

Sight more than light to omit!

Look on the general fields, how bright they lie

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