Sonnet to Isa Sleeping


 * As graceful as the Babylonian willow
 * Bending, at noontide, over some clear stream
 * In Palestine, in beauty did she seem
 * Upon the cygnet-down of her soft pillow;
 * And now her breast heaved like some gentle billow
 * Swayed by the presence of the full round moon
 * Voluptuous as the summer South at noon
 * Her cheeks as rosy as the radiant dawn
 * When heaven is cloudless! When she breated, the air
 * Around was perfume! Timid as the fawn,
 * And meeker than the dove, her soft words were
 * Like gentle music heard at night, when all
 * Around is still until the soul of care
 * Was soothed, as noontide by some waterfall.