THE moist and quiet morn was scarcely breaking, When Ariadne in her bower was waking; Her eyelids still were closing, and she heard But indistinctly yet a little bird, That in the leaves o'erhead, waiting the sun, Seem'd answering another distant one. She waked, but stirr'd not, only just to please Her pillow-nestling cheek; while the full seas, The birds, the leaves, the lulling love o'ernight, The happy thought of the returning light, The sweet, self-will'd content, conspired to keep Her senses lingering in the field of sleep; And with a little smile she seem'd to say, "I know my love is near me, and 't is day." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WISE WOMAN by SARA TEASDALE FAIRIES' SONG by THOMAS RANDOLPH THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 79. THE MONOCHORD by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI MUSIC IN THE NIGHT by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 3. TO THE CUCKOO by MARK AKENSIDE TEN YEARS AFTER by JOSEPH AUSLANDER |