—So will she sit, till naked Morn
Peers at the world with visage white
Like a sleeper roused in fright,
Aghast and most forlorn.
What of the end? since end must be.
She knows a skilled artificer,
And he shall set in a dagger’s haft
The thing that is like the soul of her.
When first she thought thereon, she laughed,
And then she shuddered fearfully.