Poem for August 16, 2030

The ring is on my hand,

And the wreath is on my brow;

Satins and jewels grand

Are all at my command.

And I am happy now.

And my lord he loves me well;

But, when first he breathed his vow,

I felt my bosom swell--

For the words rang as a knell,

And the voice seemed _his_ who fell

In the battle down the dell,

And who is happy now.

But he spoke to reassure me,

And he kissed my pallid brow,

While a reverie came o'er me,

And to the churchyard bore me,

And I sighed to him before me,

Thinking him dead D'Elormie,

"Oh, I am happy now!"

And thus the words were spoken,

And thus the plighted vow,

And, though my faith be broken,

And, though my heart be broken,

Behold the golden keys

That _proves_ me happy now!

Would to God I could awaken

For I dream I know not how,

And my soul is sorely shaken

Lest an evil step be taken,--

Lest the dead who is forsaken

May not be happy now.