Wedding poems

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Wedding Day

© Edith Nesbit

The enchanted hour,
The magic bower,
Where, crowned with roses,
Love love discloses.

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The Mother Mary

© George MacDonald

Mary, to thee the heart was given
For infant hand to hold,
And clasp thus, an eternal heaven,
The great earth in its fold.

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Lord Of My Life

© Rabindranath Tagore

Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?

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The Maid-Martyr

© Jean Ingelow

Her face, O! it was wonderful to me,
There was not in it what I look'd for-no,
I never saw a maid go to her death,
How should I dream that face and the dumb soul?

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The Stealing Of The Mare - VIII

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Said the Narrator:
And when the Emir Abu Zeyd desired to depart, then said to him the Emir Jaber, ``Was it for the mare then that thou camest to our country, or for what else?'' And Abu Zeyd related to him the whole story of the ancient dame and of all that had happened. And the Emir Fadel cried to the grooms, ``Lead forth the mare, the Hamameh.'' And they led her forth and brought her to the Emir Abu Zeyd. And he departed with her after that he had bidden them farewell. And he went back to those shepherds, and took from them his riding camel, and ceased not until he had returned unto his own Arabs. And when they saw him they saluted him, and came around him and rejoiced exceedingly, and they made feastings, and the tribe rejoiced. And Abu Zeyd related to them all that had happened to him, and they wondered greatly and all the tribe with them. Then sent he to the ancient dame Ghanimeh and begged of her that she might come, and when she came he delivered to her the mare and the gifts and bade her depart to her own people. But she said to him, ``Nay, but send with me one who shall charge himself with my affairs.'' And he sent with her Abul Komsan. And Abul Komsan went with Ghanimeh. And they had not journeyed seven days when they met with the tribe of En Naaman. And Abul Komsan went unto Naaman and said to him: ``Saith my lord Abu Zeyd to thee, let Amer espouse thy daughter, for behold, the mare thou didst require of him my lord hath obtained her for thee.'' But when Naaman heard that, he said, ``Take the mare and return to thy Lord and say he will not listen to thy words, neither will he follow thy counsel.'' But he said to him, ``If thou wilt not do this thing then will I slay thee in the midst of thy Arabs, and destroy thee utterly.'' But when Naaman heard this he leaped upon his mare and rushed upon Abul Komsan. But Abul Komsan struck him with his spear upon his breast and pierced him through, so that the spear shone beyond him. And he called out to all the men of the tribe, and defied them, saying, ``I am your peer, and better than your peer.'' But they said to him, ``Nay, but thou hast done us a service, for this one refused to do according to our counsels.'' So Abul Komsan bade them bury him. And they buried him. Then he bade them to bring Amer before him, and Abul Komsan made rejoicings for him and placed him upon the seat of authority in the room of his uncle Naaman. And they brought to him also Betina, the daughter of Naaman, and he ordered their marriage. And when he had done all these things he desired to leave them. But they brought him gifts and they led forth for him the mare, and he took her and his leave of them and departed, and returned to his master and told him all the story. And Abu Zeyd rejoiced and gave thanks.
And the Narrator once more began his singing and he said:

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The Coronation

© Thomas Hardy


Edward the Pious, and two Edwards more,
The second Richard, Henrys three or four;

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Holy Matrimony

© John Keble

Be present, awful Father,
To give away this bride,
As Eve thou gav'st to Adam
Out of his own pierced side:

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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

© Anne Bradstreet

Great Alexander was wise Philips son,

He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;

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After the Golden Wedding (Three Soliloquies)

© James Kenneth Stephen

  She's not a faultless woman; no!
  She's not an angel in disguise:
  She has her rivals here below:
  She's not an unexampled prize:

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Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book II - Swayamvara (The Bride's Choice)

© Romesh Chunder Dutt

The mutual jealousies of the princes increased from day to day, and
when Yudhishthir, the eldest of all the princes and the eldest son of
the late Pandu, was recognised heir-apparent, the anger of Duryodhan
and his brothers knew no bounds. And they formed a dark scheme to
kill the sons of Pandu.

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Life Is Lovely All the Year

© William Schwenck Gilbert

When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!

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Sordello: Book the First

© Robert Browning

TO J. MILSAND, OF DIJON.

1840.

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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

© Samuel Butler

But she, who well enough knew what
(Before he spoke) he would be at,
Pretended not to apprehend
The mystery of what he mean'd;.
And therefore wish'd him to expound
His dark expressions, less profound.

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Fuscara; or, the Bee Errant

© John Cleveland

Nature's confectioner, the bee

(Whose suckets are moist alchemy,

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The Bride's Prelude

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

“Sister,” said busy Amelotte

To listless Aloÿse;

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Wedding Night

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Far from the feasting, in the bedroom

Sits loyal Amor and quakes with dread:

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In The Firelight

© John Hay

My dear wife sits beside the fire

  With folded hands and dreaming eyes,

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Like A Laverock In The Lift

© Jean Ingelow

It's we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye,
All the world, and we two, and Heaven be our stay!
Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride!
All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his side.

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Joseph

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

If the stars fell; night's nameless dreams
  Of bliss and blasphemy came true,
If skies were green and snow were gold,
  And you loved me as I love you;

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The Happiest Girl in the World

© Augusta Davies Webster

A week ago; only a little week:
it seems so much much longer, though that day
is every morning still my yesterday;
as all my life 'twill be my yesterday,
for all my life is morrow to my love.
Oh fortunate morrow! Oh sweet happy love!