Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EVE OF THE BRIDAL, by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EVE OF THE BRIDAL, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Yes! It has come; the strange, o'ermastering hour
Last Line: And golden gloom and tender silence meet.
Subject(s): Marriage; Weddings; Husbands; Wives


YES! it has come; the strange, o'ermastering hour,
When buoyant hopes, and tender, tremulous fears
Sway the full heart with a divided power,
The flush of sunshine, and the touch of tears!

Oh! for a spell to charm away thy care,
As I could charm, were I but near thee now
To chide coy flickerings of that half despair
Of virginal shame upon thy downcast brow;

A fitful gloom 'mid blushes of bright joy,
Like those transparent clouds in summer days,
That cast their transient shadows of alloy
Across the noontide's else too dazzling blaze;

Yet, from the fair hills of this foreign shore,
I waft thee benedictions on the wind,
Hopes that a peaceful bliss forevermore
May rule the gracious empire of thy mind.

And blessing thus, the dreary distance dies,
And in a clearer than Agrippa's glass,
The enamored fancy, -- what pale visions rise,
Brightening to shape and beauty ere they pass?

A room where sunset's glory deep, though dim,
Girds thy rich chamber with luxurious grace,
Rounds the fair outline of each delicate limb,
And crowns with chastened ray thine eloquent face,

In shimmering folds thy raiments soft and rare,
Swell with the passionate heavings of thy breast,
O'er whose young loveliness, the entranced air,
Languidly breathing, seeks voluptuous rest.

Thy hand -- (in two brief hours no longer thine) --
Gleams near a gossamer curtain, stirred with sighs,
And the full, star-like tears begin to shine
In the blue heaven of thy bewildering eyes.

Tears for the girlhood, almost past away,
Its innocent life, its wealth of tender lore,
Tears for the womanhood, whose opening day,
May not reveal the untried scene before.

Not bitter tears! for him thou lov'st is true,
And all thy being quivers into flame,
A swift delicious flame that thrills thee through,
Whene'er thy memory lingers on his name.

Ev'n now I see thee turn thy timid head,
Luxuriant-locked, towards a dim retreat,
Where twilight shadows veil thy bridal bed,
And golden gloom and tender silence meet.





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