| The ring is on my hand,
|
| And the wreath is on my brow;
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| Satin and jewels grand
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| Are all at my command,
|
| And I am happy now.
|
| And my lord he loves me well;
|
| But, when first he breathed his vow,
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| I felt my bosom swell —
|
| For the words rang as a knell,
|
| And the voice seemed his who fell
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| In the battle down the dell,
|
| And who is happy now.
|
| But he spoke to re-assure me,
|
| And he kissed my pallid brow,
|
| While a reverie came o’er me,
|
| And to the church-yard bore me,
|
| And I sighed to him before me,
|
| Thinking him dead D’Elormie,
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| Oh, I am happy now!
|
| And thus the words were spoken,
|
| And this the plighted vow,
|
| And, though my faith be broken,
|
| And, though my heart be broken,
|
| Here is a ring, as token
|
| That I am happy now!
|
| Would God I could awaken!
|
| For I dream I know not how!
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| And my soul is sorely shaken
|
| Lest an evil step be taken, —
|
| Lest the dead who is forsaken
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| May not be happy now |