I waited. And one night was borne to me,
Upon a litter, bloody and befouled,
The corpse of Merow carried shoulder-high
By mourning bearers; and I sat like stone,
Dumb, tearless, stricken by excess of tears
That would not weep, but lay congealed within
Mine overburdened heart. All night I sat
In silence, weeping not, until the stars
Were lost in dawn, until the silver dawn
Blossomed with splendour to a golden day;