JUNE, 1916.

The women stood and watched while thick, black night

Enclosed the awful tragedy. Afar

Three crosses stood, against a single bar

Of crimson-glowing, black-encircled light.

No hint of Easter dawn. In all the height

Of that dark heaven, not a single star

To whisper;— Love and Life the victors are.

It seemed to them that wrong had conquered right.

O ye who watch and wait, the night is long.

A curtain of spun fire and woven gloom

Across the mighty tragedy is drawn.

But soon your ears shall hear a triumph song,

And golden light shall touch each sacred tomb,

And voices shout at last — The Dawn! The Dawn.