Stories that might be true With other poems: By Dora Greenwell |
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THE SLEEPING GIRL. |
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 | Stories that might be true |  |
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THE SLEEPING GIRL.
I came to waken thee, but Sleep
Hath breathed about thee such a calm,—
Hath wrapt thee up in spells so deep
And soft, I dare not break the charm;
Hath breathed about thee such a calm,—
Hath wrapt thee up in spells so deep
And soft, I dare not break the charm;
Thy breathings do not stir the folds
That lie unmoved around thee; Rest
Hath rocked thee gently,—now she holds
Thy spirit lulled upon her breast;
That lie unmoved around thee; Rest
Hath rocked thee gently,—now she holds
Thy spirit lulled upon her breast;
An imaged Stillness, by Repose
Fast locked in an enduring clasp:
A marble Silence, with the rose
Just dropping from her languid grasp:
Fast locked in an enduring clasp:
A marble Silence, with the rose
Just dropping from her languid grasp:
Yet never o'er the sculptured lid
Did such a blissful slumber creep;
Its shade hath ne'er such sweetness hid—
The statue smiles not in its sleep!
Did such a blissful slumber creep;
Its shade hath ne'er such sweetness hid—
The statue smiles not in its sleep!
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And dost Thou smile? I know not! Night
To one serene, abiding grace,
Hath wrought the quick and changeful light
That flitted o'er thy waking face:
To one serene, abiding grace,
Hath wrought the quick and changeful light
That flitted o'er thy waking face:
It is not smiling, it is Peace—
All lovely things are thine at will;
Thy soul hath won a sweet release
From Earth, yet kept its gladness still!
All lovely things are thine at will;
Thy soul hath won a sweet release
From Earth, yet kept its gladness still!
For Sleep, a partial nurse, though kind
To all her children, yet hath prest
Some to her heart more close—we find
She ever loves the youngest best;
To all her children, yet hath prest
Some to her heart more close—we find
She ever loves the youngest best;
Because they vex her not with aches
And fever-pangs to hush to rest;
They need no soothing! She but takes
Them in her arms, and they are blest!
And fever-pangs to hush to rest;
They need no soothing! She but takes
Them in her arms, and they are blest!
The double portion there is given;
She binds two worlds within her chain;
And now by golden light of Heaven
Thou livest o'er the day again:
She binds two worlds within her chain;
And now by golden light of Heaven
Thou livest o'er the day again:
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My touch must bid those bright links start
And fly asunder; yet for thee
I may not mourn—not far apart
Thy Dream and thy Reality!
And fly asunder; yet for thee
I may not mourn—not far apart
Thy Dream and thy Reality!
Soon shall I watch within thine eyes
The sweet light startle into morn,
And see upon thy cheek arise
The flushing of a rosy dawn:
The sweet light startle into morn,
And see upon thy cheek arise
The flushing of a rosy dawn:
The sunshine vainly round thee streams,
And I must rouse thee with a kiss:—
Oh! may Life never break thy dreams
With harsher summoning than this!
And I must rouse thee with a kiss:—
Oh! may Life never break thy dreams
With harsher summoning than this!
| Stories that might be true | |