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!
