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.