midday
And she does come , and again and again . By degrees , though she comes to you only at night , when the outhouse is dark , or lighted only by the stars or the moonshine , you learn exactly what the Lady is like . She wears a silken , softly-rustling gown that is of any lovely colour you choose . The hue of the blue overarching sky at midday , or the tender rose of dawn , or of the violet clouds that bar the flaming orange-ruby of the sunset : or the mysterious robe of twilight drapes her , or her garment is sable as the Night . The grand sweep of her shoulders and the splendid pillar of her throat reveal the beauty of her form even to the eyes of an untaught , neglected child . Her face is pale , but as full of sunlight as of shadow , and her eyes are really grey and deep as mountain lakes . The sorrow of all the world and all its joy seem to have rolled over her like many waters , and when she smiles the sweetness of it is always almost more than the Kid can bear .