My Bride That Is To Be

O soul of mine, look out and see      My bride, my bride that is to be!      Reach out with mad, impatient hands,     And draw aside futurity     As one might draw a veil aside -      And so unveil her where she stands     Madonna-like and glorified -      The queen of undiscovered lands     Of love, to where she beckons me -     My bride - my bride that is to be.     The shadow of a willow-tree      That wavers on a garden-wall      In summertime may never fall     In attitude as gracefully     As my fair bride that is to be; -      Nor ever Autumn's leaves of brown     As lightly flutter to the lawn     As fall her fairy-feet upon      The path of love she loiters down. -     O'er drops of dew she walks, and yet     Not one may stain her sandal wet -     Aye, she might dance upon the way     Nor crush a single drop to spray,     So airy-like she seems to me, -     My bride, my bride that is to be.     I know not if her eyes are light     As summer skies or dark as night, -     I only know that they are dim      With mystery: In vain I peer      To make their hidden meaning clear,      While o'er their surface, like a tear     That ripples to the silken brim,     A look of longing seems to swim      All worn and wearylike to me;     And then, as suddenly, my sight     Is blinded with a smile so bright,      Through folded lids I still may see      My bride, my bride that is to be.     Her face is like a night of June     Upon whose brow the crescent-moon     Hangs pendant in a diadem     Of stars, with envy lighting them. -      And, like a wild cascade, her hair     Floods neck and shoulder, arm and wrist,     Till only through a gleaming mist      I seem to see a siren there,     With lips of love and melody      And open arms and heaving breast      Wherein I fling myself to rest,     The while my heart cries hopelessly     For my fair bride that is to be....     Nay, foolish heart and blinded eyes!     My bride hath need of no disguise. -      But, rather, let her come to me     In such a form as bent above      My pillow when in infancy     I knew not anything but love. -     O let her come from out the lands      Of Womanhood - not fairy isles, -     And let her come with Woman's hands      And Woman's eyes of tears and smiles, -     With Woman's hopefulness and grace     Of patience lighting up her face:     And let her diadem be wrought     Of kindly deed and prayerful thought,     That ever over all distress     May beam the light of cheerfulness. -     And let her feet be brave to fare     The labyrinths of doubt and care,     That, following, my own may find     The path to Heaven God designed. -     O let her come like this to me -     My bride - my bride that is to be.