I held the village lily cheap,
And the dream around her idle:
Lo, quietly as I lay to sleep,
The bells led me off to a bridal.
VI
My bride wore the hood of a Béguine,
And mine was the foot to falter;
Three cowled monks, rat-eyed, were seen;
The Cross was of bones o’er the altar.
VII
The Cross was of bones; the priest that read,
A spectacled necromancer:
But at the fourth word, the bride I led
Changed to an Opera dancer.
VIII
A young ballet-beauty, who perked in her place,
A darling of pink and spangles;
One fair foot level with her face,
And the hearts of men at her ankles.
IX
She whirled, she twirled, the mock-priest grinned,
And quickly his mask unriddled;
’Twas Adrian! loud his old laughter dinned;
Then he seized a fiddle, and fiddled.