Winter Epithalamium

IF happy greetings could but fly like birds,
And pour our feeling out, devoid of words,
Then shouldst thou hear as sweet a caroling
As though thy bridal day were in the spring.
If every tender thought but had the power
To mold itself into a beauteous flower,
As rare the breath and beauty at thy side,
As though June’s heart were throbbing near the bride.
Charlotte F. Bates.