R 



BRIDAL SONG 



OSES, their sharp spines being gone, 

 Not royal in their smells alone, 



But in their hue ; 

 Maiden pinks, of odour faint, 

 Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint. 



And sweet thyme true ; 



Primrose, firstborn child of Ver, 

 Merry springtime's harbinger. 



With harebells dim ; 

 Oxlips in their cradles growing, 

 Marigolds on deathbeds blowing, 



Larks'-heels trim. 



All dear Nature's children sweet. 

 Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet. 



Blessing their sense ! 

 Not an angel of the air. 

 Bird melodious, or bird fair, 



Be absent hence ! 



The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor 

 The boding raven, nor chough hoar. 



Nor chattering pie. 

 May on our bride-house perch or sing, 

 Or with them any discord bring. 



But from it fly ! 



FROM ' THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



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