Now is the time when India is gay <br />With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs <br />Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part <br />In human pleasures. Dressed in bright array, <br />They fling upon the bride their wreaths of songs- <br />The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. <br /> <br /> <br />Here is the temple ready for the rite: <br />The large-eyed bullocks halt; and waiting arms <br />Lift down the bride. All India's curious art <br />Speaks in the gems with which she is bedight, <br />And in the robes which hide her sweet alarms- <br />The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. <br /> <br /> <br />This is her day of days: her splendid hour <br />When joy is hers, though love is all unknown. <br />It has not dawned upon her childish heart. <br />But human triumph, in a temporal power, <br />Has crowned her queen upon a one-day throne- <br />The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. <br /> <br /> <br />Ah, Little Lady! What will be your fate? <br />So long, so long, the outward-reaching years: <br />So brief the joy of this elusive part; <br />So frail the shoulders for the loads that wait: <br />So bitter salt the virgin widow's tears- <br />O Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-little-lady-of-the-bullock-cart/
