My Bride - Poem by Tania Wiseman
My bride will be spotless, white as snow.
She looks forward, the groom she knows.
He is the one that will call her by name,
And in a twinkling of the eye, up she goes one day.
She is fixing herself and fully arrayed of holiness,
mature growth and waiting anxiously to say;
"Come my beloved, come my King,
I am yours and with you I'll stay."
The trumpet will sound and the bride in a flash,
Will be with her love, forever it does last.
She is the treasured jewel, He wears in his crown,
He's counting the seconds before he comes down.
Claiming what's his, He will snatch her away, the
precious jewel, she awaits.
Comments about My Bride by Tania Wiseman
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Read poems about / on: snow
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye