Page:Forget Me Not 1828.pdf/3

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 * The Bridal Morning.png
 * The Bridal Morning.png
 * The Bridal Morning.png
 * The Bridal Morning.png


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Thy bridal morning? They are now The last braid of thy tresses wreathing; The last white pearl is on thy brow, The orange flower's beside thee breathing.

Why, thou art queen-like; that rich zone, The satin’s snowy folds confining, Is bright with every Indian stone Whose hues have caught the day-break shining.

And thou art fair—O, very fair! And suitest well thy gay adorning; Thy clear brow and thy sunny hair, Are they not beautiful as morning?