The Wedding Posy

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Thanks to thy newly-wedded hand, which gaveThese bridal honours to the tomb to-day,A daughter's wedding posy! Who shall sayIt is a truant at a father's grave?O'er the blue hills, fair Edith, thou art gone;Thou and thy votive flowers are sunder'd wide;But still ye are so tenderly alliedOn earth, that your twin sweetness shall be oneIn heaven. Our Father's eye shall ne'er reproveThe bride's recurrence to the daughter's love.And when thou hast fulfill'd thy days and hours,And thy pure life its meed of glory brings,The earliest passage of thine angel wingsAmong the blest shall tell of orange flowers!

© Turner Charles (Tennyson)