The Quaker Wedding

Without, the summer silence lies-- Within, the meeting-house is still;

The hush of First Day hovers o’er All human-kind on Quaker Hill.

The tethered Dobbins doze and blink In stolid calm beneath the shed;

In First Day, Quaker attitude,

With half-closed eyes and drooping head. The cheeping birds, abashed and mute, Have skittered off to search for shade.

Just one lone roysterer, a bee, Embarrassed at the noise lie’s made, Whirrs up against a staring pane And folds his wings and sits him down,

To gaze with apiarian mirth

On strange drab poke and shining crown.

The elders sit in sober rows,

Upon the long, prim, facing-seats;

--Each visage like an iron mask;

No look of recognition greets The softened landscape out of doors.

--The shimmer of the summer falls On unresponsive eyes; The God Of Nature all unheeded calls.

Their half-veiled gaze droops coldly down, Fixed on the dusty, worn, old floor, Unnoting that the gracious Lord Smiles in God’s sunshine at the door.

The Spirit has not moved the tongue;

Each contrite soul has conned its own; And in the hush of silent prayer,

Each worshipper has bent alone.

And some are sad and some are stern

And some are smug and others bow As though, with furtive stealth, to hide What conscience writes upon the brow.

But hark! the Meeting lifts its eyes And he who’s sitting at the head Breaks on the hush with reverent tone:

“If friends,” says he, “have planned to wed ’Tis meet that now they do proceed.” Forthwith upon the women’s side A blushing youth stands forth in view And with him shrinks his Quaker bride.

With trembling hand in shaking palm,

They face the Meeting’s awful hush,

--No minister to question them,

No kindly shield to hide a blush.

Alone they stand, alone must they Swear matrimony’s solemn oath;

A hundred noses point their way,

Two hundred eyes stare hard at both.

Then twice and thrice the youth’s parched lips Strive hard to frame the longed-for word; And twice and thrice he tries again,

Yet not a single sound is heard.

There’s just an upward flash of eyes Like starlight in a forest pool,

--She may have said, “Take heart, dear one!”

--She may have said, “Go on, thou fool!

His cheeks flush dark, his lips are gray, His knees drum fast against the pew.

But by a mighty gasp he speaks,

The dry lips part, a croak comes through: “Here in the presence of the Lord,

And in the First-Day meeting, I Take thee, my friend, Susannah Saul To be my wife. My loving eye Shall rest on thee, and till the Lord Is pleased by death to separate Our lives and loves, I’ll be to thee An honest, faithful, loving mate.”

As one an echo of a song Thrums thinly on a single string,

The Quaker maid in trembling tones Vows to her lord to likewise bring Love, truth and trust to grace their home. Their voices cease and side by side They stand abashed. One honest voice Rolls out, “Amen;” the knot is tied.