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Poem by Richard Henry Stoddard

The Night Before the Bridal

THE bridal flower you gave me,
The rose so pure and white,
I press it to my lips, dear,
With tears of soft delight.

Its odor is so heavy
It makes me faint and pine;
It is thy kiss that freights it,
That sweet, sweet love of thine.

To-morrow thou wilt give me,
For a spell of joy and power,
The hand that gave the rose-bud,
And thy heart, a richer flower.

Then this may fade, and wither,
No longer kissed by me,
For these, my burning kisses,
Will then be showered on thee.

Richard Henry Stoddard

Richard Henry Stoddard's other poems:
  1. The Sledge at the Gate
  2. To Edmund Clarence Stedman
  3. The Divan
  4. Silent Songs
  5. Uncertain Sounds

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