Just one more bride has passed before The altar and out the old church door. Her friends flung rice, her laugh was gay, And merrily she was whisked away. Then a brooding quiet settled down On the dusty street in the little town; And out from a nearby house there stole A shabby old couple with broom and bowl. They swept up the rice while their grateful faces Blessed the bride in her silks and laces. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PAULINE BARRETT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DUSK IN WAR TIME by SARA TEASDALE THE EVENING STAR by THOMAS CAMPBELL MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION: TO EXCELLENCIES THE LORDS JUSTICES OF IRELAND by JONATHAN SWIFT STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1718 by JONATHAN SWIFT THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 2 by WILLIAM BASSE FASHION; A DIALOGUE by JAMES HAY BEATTIE THE NEW WORLD; TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES by LAURENCE BINYON |