The Wedding Gift

In the Garret under the sloping eaves

Stood Grandmother Granger's old hair trunk,

With battered bureaus and broken chairs,

And a spinning wheel and similar junk.

The hirsute cover was worn in spots;

'Twas once the hide of a brindle cow,

That grazed of yore in the meadows green

Where Harlem flats are towering now.

I use to climb the garret stairs

On a rainy day and lift the lid

And loose the fragrance of olden times

That under the faded finery hid-

Attic Memories

Norman Rockwell

Damask rose and lavender,

Delicate odors, fine and faint,

Clinging still to the crumpled folds

Of silks and muslins and challies quaint.

Fans and slippers and veils were there,

Beads of amber and yellow lace,

Coral earrings and Paisley shawls

And the big pink bonnet that framed her face

With its golden curls and soft blue eyes,

And the dimpled chin and laughing lip,

When Grandfather Granger took his bride

And the smart new trunk on a wedding trip.

Holy Matrimony
Harrison Fisher

It was the soul of a garden old,

Dreaming under the stars, I freed.

Jasmine, lilies, and rosemary,

Stately marigolds gone to seed.

Thyme and pansy and migonette,

Sage and balsam and love-in-a-mist,

Where Grandfather Granger, a bold young blade,

Scaled the walls to the secret tryst.

To the creak and sway of a four-horse stage

He kissed her hand in its silken mitt,

And her girlish cheek that was like a rose

As her blissful blushes mantled it.

Under The Mistletoe
Norman Rockwell

The honeymoon never waned, they say-

The pair were lovers through all the years,

Gray-haired sweethearts, tender and true,

Sharing life with its smiles and tears.

The flower frocks and the ancient trunk,

And Grandmother Granger, too, are dust,

But something precious and sweet and rare

Survives the havoc of moth and rust;

Love with the wings of bright romance,

And the eyes of youth that are always gay-

Grandmother Granger's wedding gift

To every girl on her marriage day.

"The Wedding Gift"
Minna Irving
1865-1940
American poetess