The women stood and watched while thick, black night Enclosed the awful tragedy. Afar Three crosses stood, against a single bar
Of crimson-glowing, black-encircled light.
No hint of Easter dawn. In all the height Of that dark heaven, not a single star To whisper;—Love and Life the victors are.
It seemed to them that wrong had conquered right.
O ye who watch and wait, the night is long. A curtain of spun fire and woven gloom Across the mighty tragedy is drawn.
But soon your ears shall hear a triumph song, And golden light shall touch each sacred tomb, And voices shout at last—The Dawn! The Dawn!
