THE INVISIBLE BRIDE

by: Edwin Markham (1852-1940)

HE 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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