The Bride of Nitta Yuma

Softly the cool breath of the early morning,
Swamp-scented air, fragrant with deep lagoons
And water lilies, stole on through the fields
Of cotton, whispering a sighing song.
'Twas Sunday morning then, and everywhere
The May dew rolled away in diadems.
Another day was born with floods of light;
The grass with newer green all wet with dew
Gave welcoming. And rose hues spent with yesterday
Found blushes still, and sent out night-born sweets
To mingle with a thousand other spicy
Airs, and perfumes of the jessamine,
And wild aromas of the Summer air.
And murmured low the sycamore overhead
With whisperings of passing Summer winds.
The dapple sunshine gleamed and kissed their leaves,
And golden gleams were on the fields. Rich were
The blackbird's notes, and joyous sounds from all
The feathered tribes. In lazy lengths the bayou went
With stretches on, and murmuring low songs
Like those of love. There floated far and wide
The queenly water lilies — white, perfuming
All the Sunday air.

And, like a dove
Of peace, fair Nitta Yuma sat amid
Her spreading figs and rich magnolia blooms,
In rest; for there was come the hallowed day,
The Sabbath of the Lord. The church bell pealed
To far plantations for her worshippers.
They came in straggling bands through cotton fields
And shady lanes. Upon their faces, young
And old, was seen a keen expectancy,
And eagerness. It was the wedding day
Of sweet Alicia Bell, the fairest maid,
And most beloved of all the country side.
And when the preacher called the happy pair
To stand and take their vows, no costly veil
Resplendent in transparency enwrapped
The dusky bride, nor great Cathedral gleamed
In rich mosaics, nor stately pillars carved,
To mark the elegance and luxury
Where come the great, the lordly, and the rich,
To take their marriage vows. But love was there
And hope, and youth, to guide and lead them forth
To their new world. And to his humble home,
With whitewashed walls, the bridegroom led his bride.
The wedding feast of simple fare was theirs
Alone. Through all the golden afternoon
They took their bridal tour, still hand in hand,
Love ever leading on, through cotton fields,
Along the bayou's side, until their feet
Led to the forest old, where man first loved,
First wooed, first won a bride and made a home.
Gently the spirit of the ancient forest
Wove her magic spell around them, till,
As one, they had no further need of speech.
They were no longer twain, and on, as one,

Slowly they walked through the fragrant and green woods —
Woods sun-stained, and peaceful, where all nature
Fused her mellow beauty into one
Harmonious whole. Softened and blended colors
Gleamed in vistas and in open glades;
Delicious murmurs, inarticulate,
Soothing all the senses, crept in quiet,
Even undertones all through the forest,
Whispering primeval memories,
Primeval mysteries of ages past.
Once more the ancient forest, dim and silent,
Throbbed with energy and unseen life,
Where sunshine fell among the moist ferns,
Gleamed on silent pools and altars lost.
Again the musty fragrance of the forest mould
Greeted the nostrils of fauns and dryads
Unseen, and all the fairy forest lived
Once more, commingling with their murmurings
The past and present. Here primordial love
Walked hand in hand through Paradise anew.