The Night.

    A tremor, a quiver,
        Through her ran
    As over the river
        The dawn began.
    She drew her veil
        Over her eyes,
    And her face grew pale,
        As she watched the sun rise.
    She faded, turned
        To a ghost, was gone,
    As the morning burned
        And the day came on.
    With veiled, sad eye,
        And face still wan,
    She waited nigh
        When the dusk began.
    With her tears of bliss
        The earth was wet,
    And soothed with her kiss,
        When the sun had set.
    And with stately pride
        She sat on the throne
    Of her empire wide
        When the day had gone;
    And her robes she spread
        With their sable hem,
    And crowned her head
        With her diadem.
    And the mute earth saw
        That a Queen was she,
    And gazed with awe
        On her majesty.