II

Flinging the gloom of yesternight

On the white day; but robed in soften'd light

                        Of orient state.

Whilome thou earnest with the morning mist,

      Even as a maid, whose stately brow

The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kiss'd,

                        When she, as thou,

Stays on her floating locks the lovely freight

Of overflowing blooms, and earliest shoots

Of orient green, giving safe pledge of fruits,

Which in wintertide shall star

The black earth with brilliance rare.