She sits alone, with folded hands,
While from her full and lustrous eyes
Imperial light wakes love to life,—
Love that, unheeded, quickly dies.
She sits alone, among them all
So near, and yet so far,—they seem
But our coarse waking thoughts, while she
Is the reflection of a dream.
She sits alone, so still, so calm,
So queenly in her grand repose,