Iii

All knew that this child of the morning light Was queen of the morn and them; That the morning-star, in his beams of white, Was her prince in a diadem: ’Twas he who had given those gems that flash And jewel the front of her smock; From his lordly fingers of light did dash Down pearls where she stooped to mock A jessamine, pale, in the garden’s gloom, All wan of face, but of sweet perfume.