Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/158



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.