Reely's Poetry Blog

by ALICE CARY (1820-1871)

We're married, they say, and you think you have won me, — 
Well, take this white veil from my head, and look on me;
Here's matter to vex you, and matter to grieve you,
Here's doubt to distrust you, and faith to believe you, — 
I am all as you see, common earth, common dew;
Be wary, and mould me to roses, not rue!
 
Ah! shake out the filmy thing, fold after fold,
And see if you have me to keep and to hold, — 
Look close on my heart — see the worst of its sinning, — 
It is not yours to-day for the yesterday's winning — 
The past is not mine — I am too proud to borrow — 
You must grow to new heights if I love you to-morrow.

I have wings flattened down and hid under my veil:
They are subtle as light — you can never undo them,
And swift in their flight — you can never pursue them,
And spite of all clasping, and spite of all bands,
I can slip like a shadow, a dream, from your hands.
 
Nay, call me not cruel, and fear not to take me,
I am yours for my life-time, to be what you make me, — 
To wear my white veil for a sign, or a cover,
As you shall be proven my lord, or my lover;
A cover for peace that is dead, or a token
Of bliss that can never be written or spoken.