victoria.
155
VICTORIA,
On her way to Guildhall.
They told me the diamond-tiar on her head
Gleam'd out like chain-lightning amid her soft hair,
They told me the many-hued glory it shed
Seem'd a rainbow still playing resplendently there;
I mark'd not the gem's regal lustre the while,
I saw but her sunny, her soul-illumed smile.
Gleam'd out like chain-lightning amid her soft hair,
They told me the many-hued glory it shed
Seem'd a rainbow still playing resplendently there;
I mark'd not the gem's regal lustre the while,
I saw but her sunny, her soul-illumed smile.
They told me the plume floated over her face,
Like a snowy cloud shading the rose-light of morn:
I saw not the soft feather's tremulous grace,
I watch'd but the being by whom it was worn;
I watch'd her white brow as benignly it bent,
While the million-voiced welcome the air around rent.
Like a snowy cloud shading the rose-light of morn:
I saw not the soft feather's tremulous grace,
I watch'd but the being by whom it was worn;
I watch'd her white brow as benignly it bent,
While the million-voiced welcome the air around rent.
