Delayed till she had ceased to know --
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom¹ lay --
An hour behind the fleeting² 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 bliss³ so slow a pace
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?

Oh if there may departing be
Any forgot by Victory
In her imperial round --
Show them this meek⁴ appareled thing
That could not stop to be a king --
Doubtful if it be crowned!

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