And slanted earthward so to veil their joy:—
My sister at her bridal, know’t is she!
And then again, drooped as with hidden wo,
As one doth bide a threatened stormy shock,
And, trembling ever, yet affirmed and strong,
Doth linger till its coming; her I see,
Clinging with tendrils of enhanced love
To one pale image ever at her side
Until the cloud shall drop its deathly store.
A rainy burial on a sullen day,