She stood -- a hill-ensceptred Queen, The glory streaming from her; While Heaven flashed her rays between, And shed eternal summer. The gates of morning opened wide On sunny dome and steeple; Noon gleamed upon the mountain-side Thronged with a happy people; And twilight's drowsy, half closed eyes Beheld that virgin splendour Whose orbs were as her darkening skies, And as her spirit, tender. Girt with that strength, first-born of right, Held fast by deeds of honour, Her robe she wove with rays more bright Than Heaven could rain upon her. Where is that light -- that citadel? That robe with woof of glory? She lost her virtue and she fell, And only left her story. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: LYMAN KING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE SACRAL DREAMS OF RAMON FERNANDEZ by JAMES GALVIN ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER MEMORY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON THE PROPOSAL TO ERECT A MONUMENT IN ENGLAND TO LORD BYRON by EMMA LAZARUS THE LITTLE PEOPLES by CLAUDE MCKAY OCTAVES: 15 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |