From ceaseless study quenchless thought—
Maidens, with timid, trembling lips,
Their beauties purple with eclipse;
Mothers, within whose matron eyes
Dwelt all the depth of tropic skies,
Clasping their offspring, as the rose
Enfolds its heart at evening close.
Some stood alone, with drooping wings;
Some gathered here and there in rings,
But each one felt, though far apart,