Got tickets, and the fête attends;
I, robed in white, with fleecy veil,
With orange wreath and courtly trail,
Fancied that, at my levee
They’d all admire and envy me;
But strange to say, I never heard
The very first admiring word!
But then the guests, the gifts, the ring,
And all the joys that weddings bring—
A sweetish scare, I must confess,