While Evening with her band of hours
Sits by thee silently.
From Morning in the vine-yards straying—
Sweet child, so fair and meek!
She lieth down, and tired of playing,
Darkens the bright grass with her cheek.
One arm upon her eyes she foldeth,
O'er which her hair is softly fann'd,
And still with fainting grasp she holdeth
The lilies in her hand.