Young bride, that findest not a single star

Shining to-night with longed for prophecy,

Though snowy drifts are swelling near and far,

They need not chill thy happy hope and thee.

If blue had overarched the earth all day,

And heaven were brilliant with its stars to-night,

"A happy omen!" many a guest would say,

And think that Fortune blessed the sacred rite.

Be superstition far from thee, sweet soul:

This snowy robe, in unison with thine,

Nature will doff to-morrow, and the whole

Of this white waste in spring-like freshness shine.

If love be strong, then all adversity

Will melt like snow, and life the greener be.