Henry Alford

(1810-1871 / England)

The Bride - Poem by Henry Alford

'RISE,' said the Master, 'come unto the feast.'
She heard the call and rose with willing feet;
   But thinking it not otherwise than meet
For such a bidding to put on her best,
She is gone from us for a few short hours
   Into her bridal closet, there to wait
   For the unfolding of the palace gate
That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers.
We have not seen her yet, though we have been
   Full often to her chamber door, and oft
Have listen'd underneath the postern green,
   And laid fresh flowers, and whisper'd short and soft.
But she hath made no answer, and the day
From the clear west is fading fast away.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003



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