The Golden Wedding

The day but not the bride is come,
As in her blossom-time;
But golden lights sustain the home
She cherished in her prime.

May we not call upon the band?
May we not ask the priest?
Our golden wedding is at hand,
And we shall hold a feast.

But where is he in snow-white stole
Who the old service read,
That made us one in heart and soul?
Long, long has he been dead.

The bridesmaids clad in silken fold
Who waited on the bride,
Where are they now? Their tale is told:
Long, long ago they died.

Where is the groomsman, chosen friend,
The true, the well-beloved;
His term, alas! is at an end;
Too soon was he removed.

Where is the bride, ah! such a bride
As every joy foretells?
I see her walking by my side,
I hear the wedding-bells.

Where is she now? That we should say
She did not live to know
How passed her silver wedding-day,
So many years ago!

But come, and for your mother’s sake,
Though vain it were to weep,
Let us the silent feast partake,
Her golden wedding keep.