The Wedding Rings
Golden, with value enduring through eternity—
Each exchanged after vows of sacred solemnity.
Slipped on to fingers like porcelain unaged,
The rings did prove their love forever unchanged.
How the seraphim sung with the loftiest rapture,
And one’s heart, the exquisite pipe organ did capture.
Bells swung in such rejoicing harmony—
Declaring this sacred matrimony.
In the summer of their years, such joy prevailed,
And their special oaths, every mourning dove hailed;
For never had such souls joined in rarest communion.
Everlasting, indeed, is their most hallowed union.
Quite green was the shaded grove in which they haunted—
By the first falling leaf, too, they stood undaunted.
Then, when the sun set sooner amidst their late summer,
Their mirth quieted not, and they weren’t any glummer.
But in the thunderous winds of a quickly passing epoch,
The rings on wrinkling fingers still signified their wedlock.
Thus, October proceeded September, and leaves fell with grace,
And they loved each other more, despite their hearts’ much slower pace.
At length, their hair grayed further with autumn’s overcast,
When the moon rose earlier and sunlight didn’t last.
Eventually their locks whitened with November frost;
Though despite the forthcoming winter, their love was not lost.
How December fell upon them, and the nights grew so long—
But in the warmth, by the hearth, they sang a familiar song.
The wedding rings, by now, nearly clung on to bone—
Though in the firelight, their golden luster shone.
Alas, the two sighed their farewells on the darkest day,
And from the barren grove, the hearse carried them away.
Doleful hymns were sung over the pipe organ’s requiem,
But their wedding rings still gleamed with light from Elysium!
Their forgotten names may be found on two humble graves;
In rest, they left this world, which mortality enslaves.
Interred beneath both hillocks, ever-incorrupt and pure,
Two rings remain in folded hands—and like their love, endure.
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