The innocent, sweet Day is dead.
Dark Night hath slain her in her bed.
O’ Moors are as fierce to kill as to wed!
  —Put out the light, said he.

A sweeter light than ever rayed
From star of heaven or eye of maid
Has vanished in the unknown Shade.
  —She ’s dead, she ’s dead, said he.

Now, in a wild, sad after-mood
The...