To Her There Came At Dawn, As She Lay Still

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To her there came at dawn, as she lay still,

A sense of moth-wings fluttering in the dark;

Then with swift stroke of the imprisoned lark,

Beating his lowly cage; whereat a thrill

Shot through her members, and as clouds distil

In heavy drops, unloaded by a spark,

She wept with joy, though she must now embark

Upon that lonely journey fraught with ill.

Yet never a word she spake to him that lay

Beside her: but her carriage was so proud,

Her secret became plain, as it may be

A child reveals some hidden joy in play:

She bore herself as if she were endowed

A tabernacle for some mystery.

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1923. It may be copyrighted outside the U.S. (see Help:Public domain).