Richmond Daily Whig

THE POOR MAN'S WEDDING.
I wed thee, girl, as poor men wed,
To share a lot of toil and care:
No gems will deck our bridal bed,
But love will strew his roses there.
No cringing slaves, no menial throng,
Will deck our nuptial hovel's thatch;
No steeds will bear us swift along—
For ours is not a Coburg* match!
I did not woo thee for thy gold,
For wealth thy fancy might be sold;
My love was not a feeling cold,
For e'en as I am, poor art thou.
I wooed not with a tongue to wheedle
The lust of Mammon lent it art;
I do not wed thee to be rich—
For mine is not a Coburg heart!
Thou dost not take me to thy arms,
By State necessity impelled,
While condescension gilds thy charms,
To be with humble reverence held.
I choose thee my poor lot to cheer,
To shed a radiance o'er my life,
And not to frown or domineer~
For thou art not a Coburg wife.
When time the pleasing hope shall give
That such a pledge will bless our love,
That in our cot we shall live—
Another prized ourselves above—
No Court physician will be fee'd
(Printed in the public prints) to watch,
Lest some mishap should spoil the breed
For ours is not a Coburg match!
And when our infant's cry is heard—
Sweet music to a parent's ear—
No flattery fond, no pomp absurd,
Shall greet the little stranger here.
The public money will not keep
Our babe, by princely titles styled:
Peers will not rock that babe to sleep
For ours will be no Coburg child:
Oh, no: our union will not bear
The seal of interest—stamp of shame:
But yet our lot will be more fair
Than those who boast a higher name.
For to unite us two, at least,
No groaning people's sighs and tears!
No nation's taxes spread our feast—
For ours, love, are not Royal hearts!
*Coburg was the former title of the Queen's husband.