The Poetry Corner

The Little Lady Of The Bullock Cart

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Now is the time when India is gay With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part In human pleasures.Dressed in bright array, They fling upon the bride their wreaths of songs - The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. Here is the temple ready for the rite: The large-eyed bullocks halt; and waiting arms Lift down the bride.All India's curious art Speaks in the gems with which she is bedight. And in the robes which hide her sweet alarms - The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. This is her day of days:her splendid hour When joy is hers, though love is all unknown. It has not dawned upon her childish heart. But human triumph, in a temporal power, Has crowned her queen upon a one-day throne - The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. Ah, Little Lady!What will be your fate? So long, so long, the outward-reaching years: So brief the joy of this elusive part; So frail the shoulders for the loads that wait: So bitter salt the virgin widow's tears - O Little Lady of the Bullock cart.