PROLOGUE
Reading edition
1878
I
Such a starved bank of moss Till that May-morn, Blue ran the flash across: Violets were born!
II
Sky—what a scowl of cloud Till, near and far, Ray on ray split the shroud. Splendid, a star!
III
World—how it walled about Life with disgrace Till God's own smile came out: That was thy face!