WITHIN the orchard of a mind Beauty lay sleeping,
And now and then a little wind Ruffled the leaves, that her bright hair Might please the sun, peering to see Who slumbered there Thus quietly : And Beauty slept from hour to hour, Her thin dreams keeping Time to the movement of a flower, Opening and closing, while the day Dawned and climbed up the golden height, And made his way Even to night.
But when the eglantine was cool, And dews were weeping,
One scaled the rusting garden-wall, And startled Beauty, .waking, turned To see how Sirius-bright he came—
And the mind burned In silver flame. VIOLA GPRARD.