To A Bride.

Pass thou on! for the vow is said         That is never broken;     The hand of blessing hath, trembling, laid     On snowy forehead and simple braid,         And the word is spoken     By lips that never their words betray'd.     Pass thou on! for thy human all         Is richly given,     And the voice that claim'd its holy thrall     Must be sweeter for life than music's fall,         And, this side Heaven,     Thy lip may never that trust recal.     Pass thou on! yet many an eye         Will droop and glisten;     And the hushing heart in vain will try     To still its pulse as thy step goes by         And we "vainly listen     For thy voice of witching melody."     Pass thou on! yet a sister's tone         In its sweetness lingers,     Like some twin echo sent back alone,     Or the bird's soft note when its mate hath flown,         And a sister's fingers     Will again o'er the thrilling harp be thrown.     And our eyes will rest on their foreheads fair,         And our hearts awaken     Whenever we come where their voices are -     But oh, we shall think how musical were,         Ere of thee forsaken,     The mingled voices we listed there.     Pass on! there is not of our blessings one         That may not perish -     Like visiting angels whose errand is done,     They are never at rest till their home is won,         And we may not cherish     The beautiful gift of thy light - Pass on!