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Poem	Delayed till she had ceased to know -- Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay -- An hour behind the fleeting 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 bliss 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 meek appareled thing That could not stop to be a king -- Doubtful if it be crowned!
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