O true and tried, so well and long,
⁠Demand not thou a marriage lay;
⁠In that it is thy marriage day
Is music more than any song.

Nor have I felt so much of bliss
⁠Since first he told me that he loved
⁠A daughter of our house; nor proved
Since that dark day a day like this;

Tho' I since then have number'd o'er
⁠Some thrice three years: they went and came,
⁠Remade the blood and changed the frame,
And yet is love not less, but more;

No longer caring to embalm
⁠In dying songs a dead regret,
⁠But like a statue solid-set,
And moulded in colossal calm.