KATE NAILER.
I braided her shining tresses Away from her stainless brow;And crowned her with bridal roses As white as unfallen snow.With the chrism of love upon her She stood in the chamber there,As pure as the veil that softened The gleam of her golden hair.
Like some proud ungathered lily, So fair in her girlish grace;With not one warm tint flushing Her passionless, beautiful face.We looked on her radiant whiteness Untinged by a rosy breath;And talked of her marble beauty— Alas! God named it death.
We little thought as she whispered The tremulous bridal vow,
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