So purely white, so passing fair,
Like one of Paradise.
The preacher speaks the solemn words,
Yet fraught with deepest bliss;
We twain in one are bound by chords,
With sob--with clasp--with kiss.
Returning from that sacred place,
All earth and sky rejoiced,
And all the winds and waters' race
Their compliments then voiced.
The birds sang sweetly on the spray,
As they ne'er sang before;
And love lay o'er the world away,
A robe of golden ore.

And now, we live in Elfindale,
Dear Frank and I together;
And there is light on this sweet dale,
In calm, or stormy weather.
A fairy daughter leaps between
Our nightly moving paces;
Upon whose soft and marble brow,
Gleam many artless graces.
We dwell, we dwell, in Elfindale--
I--child--and happy mother;
And, if earth holds a sweeter vale,
We cannot wish another.
Life has been arched with bluer skies,
By curved rainbows brighter;
And nature--ah! what wondrous dyes,