Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/The Queen of Night

by Lydia Sigourney

THE QUEEN OF NIGHT.

THE queen of night rode bold and high,
    Her path was white with stars,
Her cheek was sanguine, and her eye
    Glanc'd on the blood stain'd Mars.

No word she spake, no sign she made,
    Save that her head she bow'd,
As if a cold, good night she bade,
    To some departing cloud.

A fleecy robe was loosely cast,
    Around her graceful form,
She hid her forehead from the blast,
    Hoarse herald of the storm.

But soon she staid her rushing car,
    And check'd her rapid rein,
For morn beheld her from afar,
    And frown'd upon her train.

The queen of night, and rosy morn,
    Together might not dwell;
One came to rouse the slumbering dawn,
    The other sought her cell.

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