The Sun’—just touched the Morning’—
The Morning’—Happy thing’—
Supposed that He had come to dwell’—
And Life would all be Spring!
She felt herself supremer’—
A Raised’—Ethereal Thing!
Henceforth’—for Her’—What Holiday!
Meanwhile’—Her wheeling King’—
Trailed’—slow’—along the Orchards’—
His haughty’—spangled Hems’—
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!
The Morning’—fluttered’—staggered’—
Felt feebly’—for Her Crown’—
Her unanointed forehead’—
Henceforth’—Her only One!

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