Delayed, till she had ceased to know,
Delayed, till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay.
An hour behind the fleeting breath,
Later by just an hour than death, —
Oh, lagging yesterday!
Could she have guessed that it would be;
Could but a crier of the glee
Have climbed the distant hill;
Had not the bliss so slow a pace, —
Who knows, but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?
Oh, if there may departing be
Any forgot by Victory
In her imperial round,
Show them this meek apparelled thing,
That could not stop to be a king,
Doubtful if it be crowned!
Time and Eternity II, 2
Johnson 58 | Franklin 67
The text is in the public domain worldwide, no rights reserved.
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