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...A MINOR POET by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SENRYU: BLIND DATE by TIMOTHY LIU THE POET'S BRIDAL DAY SONG by ALLAN CUNNINGHAM THE SOWER AND HIS SEED by WILLIAM EDWARD HARTPOLE LECKY THE DESERTED HOUSE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BOOK OF THE LETTER, SELECTION by ABRAHAM ABULAFIA |