"
Then blanched her face to whiteness of the lilies on her gown,
And low she bowed as lilies bow in drift of wind and rain;
"My Lord," she said, "I have no will except to lay it down
At thy desire. As I have done, so will I do again.
"Thou art my king; my son is thine. It is not mine to say
That I will bear him hence.--Yet gropes my soul unto a light;
The quarrel is 'twixt Heaven and thee alone--so I will stay
With him I love within the tower throughout this fateful night."
"And if the Angel cometh through the walls of stone and brass--
And if he toucheth Egypt's son, to seal his gentle breath,
Then will we know that God is God, He who hath right to pass
Our little doors, for He Himself is Lord of Life and Death."
O when the desert blossomed like a mystic silver rose,
And the moon shone on the palace, deep guarded to the gate,
And softly touched the lowly homes fast barred against their foes,
And lit the faces hewn of stone, that seemed to watch and wait--
There came a cry--a rending cry--upon the quivering air,
The sudden wild lamenting of a nation in its pain,
For the first-born sons of Egypt, the young, the strong, the fair--
Had fallen into dreamless sleep--and would not wake again.
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