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.