Poem Hunter
The Invisible Bride
(23 April 1852 - 7 March 1940 / Oregon City, Oregon)

The Invisible Bride

The low-voiced girls that go
   In gardens of the Lord,
Like flowers of the field they grow
   In sisterly accord.

Their whispering feet are white
   Along the leafy ways;
They go in whirls of light
   Too beautiful for praise.

And in their band forsooth
   Is one to set me free --
The one that touched my youth --
   The one God gave to me.

She kindles the desire
   Whereby the gods survive --
The white ideal fire
   That keeps my soul alive.

Now at the wondrous hour,
   She leaves her star supreme,
And comes in the night's still power,
   To touch me with a dream.

Sibyl of mystery
   On roads unknown to men,
Softly she comes to me,
   And goes to God again.

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Comments (1)

Wow this is good poetry man