GATHER her raven hair in one rich cluster, <br />Let the white champac light it, as a star <br />Gives to the dusky night a sudden lustre, <br />Shining afar. <br /> <br />Shed fragrant oils upon her fragrant bosom, <br />Until the breathing air around grows sweet; <br />Scatter the languid jasmine's yellow blossom <br />Beneath her feet. <br /> <br />Those small white feet are bare—too soft are they <br />To tread on aught but flowers; and there is roll'd <br />Round the slight ankle, meet for such display, <br />The band of gold. <br /> <br />Chains and bright stones are on her arms and neck; <br />What pleasant vanities are linked with them, <br />Of happy hours, which youth delights to deck <br />With gold and gem. <br /> <br />She comes! So comes the Moon, when she has found <br />A silvery path wherein thro' heaven to glide. <br />Fling the white veil—a summer cloud—around; <br />She is a bride! <br /> <br />And yet the crowd that gather at her side <br />Are pale, and every gazer holds his breath. <br />Eyes fill with tears unbidden, for the bride— <br />The bride of Death! <br /> <br />She gives away the garland from her hair, <br />She gives the gems that she will wear no more; <br />All the affections, whose love-signs they were, <br />Are gone before. <br /> <br />The red pile blazes—let the bride ascend, <br />And lay her head upon her husband's heart, <br />Now in a perfect unison to blend— <br />No more to part.<br /><br />Letitia Elizabeth Landon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-suttee/
