Delayed till she had ceased to know. Delayed till in it's 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 joy 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 remaining be Any, forgot by Victory In her imperial round - Show them this meek appareled thing That could not stop to be a king Doubtful if it be Crowned!
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Transcription and commentary copyright 1996 by Martha Nell Smith, all rights reserved
Last updated on June 24, 1998
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