206
Now sign your names, which shall be read
Mute symbols of a joyful morn
By village eyes as yet unborn;
The names are sign'd, and overhead
Begins the clash and clang that tells
The joy to every wandering breeze;
The blind wall rocks, and on the trees
The dead leaf trembles to the bells.
O happy hour, and happier hours
Await them. Many a merry face
Salutes them—maidens of the place,
That pelt us in the porch with flowers.
O happy hour, behold the bride
With him to whom her hand I gave.
They leave the porch, they pass the grave
That has to day it's sunny side.
To day the grave is bright for me,
For them the light of life increas'd
Who stay to share the morning feast,
Who rest to-night beside the sea.
