I.

Lovely as a sunbright Spring is, Yonder trembling maid advances, Clothed in beauty like the morning-- Like the silver-misted morning-- With a face of shiny radiance, Tinted with a tinge of blushes, Like reflections from a goblet Filled with wine of richest ruby.

Now she nears the low church portal-- Flickers through the white-washed portal, Lighting up the sleepy structure, As a sunbeam lights the drowsy Blossom into wakeful gladness. See! she stands before the altar, With the chosen one beside her; And the holy Mentor murmurs Words that link their lives like rivets, Which no force should break asunder. Now the simple prayer is ended; And two souls, like kissing shadows, Mingle so no hand shall part them! Mingle like sweet-chorded music; Mingle like the sighs of Summer-- Like the breath of fruit and blossom; Mingle like two kissing raindrops-- Twain in one. Thrice happy maiden! Life to thee is like the morning, As the fresh-faced balmy morning, Full of melody and music; Full of soft delicious fragrance; Full of Love, as dew-soaked jasmins Are of sweet and spicy odour; Full of Love, as leaping streamlets Are of life. Thrice happy maiden!