Grandma's Wedding Day.

When we were merry children, eyes of blue and hair of gold
We listened to a story by a sweet-faced lady told;
Yes, in the twilight of her life, when she was old and gray
We loved to hear the story of Grandma's wedding day.

There was a lack of bridal gifts - no gold and silver fine,
No jewels from across the sea, upon her brow to shine;
A man in homespun clothes stood up and gave the bride away -
For all was sweet simplicity on Grandma's wedding day.

There was no surpliced minister, no bell above them hung,
They stood upon the forest sward - this couple fair and young:
And when the parson called them one and wished them years of bliss,
The groom received his only gift - a soft and holy kiss.

A cabin in the forest stood to welcome home the pair,
And happy birds among the trees made music on the air;
She was the reigning backwoods belle - the bride so fair and gay -
And that is why the birds were glad upon her wedding day.

Thus life began for Grandma, in the forest dim and old,
And where she lived a city stands, with stateliness untold:
She told us how the Indian came the settler brave to fight,
And how she rocked the cradle to the wolf's long howl at night.

The cradle was an oaken trough, untrimmed with costly lace,
But in it nestled, now and then, a bright, cherubic face;
And Grandma was as happy then as though a mansion grand
Above her rose like some we see throughout our lovely land.

I cherish now a lock of hair - 'tis not of silver gray -
She clipped it in the sunlight fair, though years have passed away;
It is a tress of Grandma's hair, as bright as when she stood
And blushing took her bridal vows within the pathless wood.

On yonder hill, this golden morn, she takes her dreamless rest;
The wrinkled hands, so often kissed, lie crossed upon her breast;
And gently on her fingers, ere we laid her form away;
We placed the simple ring she wore upon her wedding day.

Author unknown.

 


 
 
 
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