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Poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt


Ariadne Waking


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 oerhead, 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 oernight
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.



James Henry Leigh Hunt


James Henry Leigh Hunt's other poems:
  1. Robin Hood, a Child
  2. A Thought or Two on Reading Pomfret's
  3. To Robert Batty, M.D., on His Giving Me a Lock of Milton's Hair
  4. The Field of Battle
  5. Sudden Fine Weather


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