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,
Seemed answering another distant one.
She waked, but stirred 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-willed content, conspired to keep
Her senses lingering in the feel of sleep;
And with a little smile she seemed to say,
“I know my love is near me, and ’tis day.”
Ariadne, goddess of passion, this very impressive poem, very skilfully worded, and such a great pleasure to read it 5 Stars full
Beautiful poetic expression embellished with compelling images and great rhyme. Wonderfully crafted.
I like the rhythmic splendour of the verse. A beautiful creation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have a talent!