 | Poems |  |
75
NIGHT SONG.
Was it a corse embalmed in state?
Was it a princess pale in death,
White in her bridal vail?
All of the roses held their breath
And the dews fell very early and late,
I thought that they never would fail—
While the night went out and the morn came in,
And the drowsy world awoke with a din,
And the fading stars fled with a wail.
Was it a princess pale in death,
White in her bridal vail?
All of the roses held their breath
And the dews fell very early and late,
I thought that they never would fail—
While the night went out and the morn came in,
And the drowsy world awoke with a din,
And the fading stars fled with a wail.
Never a corse in its bleachen shroud,
Never the daughter of a queen
Under sarcophagus bars;
But the fairest face that ever was seen,
Hid i' the misty hem of a cloud—
Softly the night wind jars
The nebulous texture asunder, and soon
The angel of midnight bore the moon
Over a flood of stars.
Never the daughter of a queen
Under sarcophagus bars;
But the fairest face that ever was seen,
Hid i' the misty hem of a cloud—
Softly the night wind jars
The nebulous texture asunder, and soon
The angel of midnight bore the moon
Over a flood of stars.
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