The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 9
I.—The Sleeping Beautt.—Kate Kennedy's Eve
I.—The Sleeping Beautt.—Kate Kennedy's Eve.
The gentle wind that whispers in the eaves
Of this old house, wherein I write,
Is blowing, too, all softly through the leaves,
That flicker at Kate's window-sill to-night.
Her window is half-open, and the breeze
Goes on, and tosses up the veil and bow—
The knot of ribbons, lying by the glass,
Just where she flung them, now a year ago.
And, ah! list softly. On the shadowed bed,
Quietly the girl lies;
And she sleeps the sleep of a gentle flower,
Waiting till winter dies.
The wind ripples over her yellow hair—
Tenderly ripples, as would a sigh;
And the sweet, still face is lovlier e'en
Than the dream of a lover's memory.
She sleeps—and, out in the darkened street,
Man on his eager way
Is hurrying still, and the tread of his feet
Follows the changing day.