THIS gift I prize all things above,
'Twas given me by the Man I love,
An emblem of his mind;
'Tis pure and spotless as the truth,
That fills the bosom of the Youth
For whom my hand's design'd.
My Wedding Gown! O! charming thought!
With needle-work 'tis finely wrought,
And white as driven snow:
At death may we as spotless rise,
Then we'll ascend the azure skies,
And leave this world below.
If Fate propitious has design'd,
Our hands with wedlock's tie to bind,
May Love our hearts unite!
While thus our minds in union move,
We'll sweeten ev'ry care with love--
'Twill make life's burden light.