My father was a Methodist minister. Whenever he performed a wedding ceremony for an older couple, marrying late in life, he liked to share a special poem. He learned it from an elderly mentor who also learned it from a succession of elderly mentors; and no one knows who wrote it. My father theorized its penning to be around 1800. It was one of his favorites; and mine, too.
The groom, white of hair,
Got up from his chair,
His faltering steps needed guiding,
While down the church aisle,
With a wan, toothless smile,
The bride in her wheelchair came gliding.
Who is this couple about to be wed?
You’ll find when you’ve closely explored it,
This is that rare, conservative pair,
Who waited ’til they could afford it.
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