The Bride

A poem by Theodosia Garrison


Though other eyes were turned to him,
He turned to look in mine;
Though others filled the cup abrim,
He might not taste the wine.

I am so glad my eyes were first
In which his own might sink;
I am so glad he went athirst
Until I bade him drink.


The Well-Belov├Ęd took my hand
And led me to his fair abode,
The home that Love and he had planned.
(Strange that so well I knew the road.)

And through the open door we went,
And at our feet the hearth-light fell,
And I--I laughed in all content,
Seeing I knew the place so well.

Ah, to no stranger Love displayed
Its every nook, its every grace,
This was the House of Dreams I made
Long, long before I saw his face.


I jested over-much in days of old,
I looked on sorrow once and did not care,
Now Love hath crowned my head with very gold,
I will be worthy of the joy I wear.

There is not one a-hungered or a-cold
Shall seek my door but that he too shall share
Something of this vast happiness I hold;
I will be worthy of the joy I wear.

For I was hungered and Love spread the feast,
Cold--and He touched my heart and warmed it there,
Yea, crowned me Queen--I neediest of His least,
I will be worthy of the joy I wear.

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