The Sleeping Beauty

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The Sleeping Beauty
written by Walter de la Mare
Songs of Childhood (1902) Link to further information




    The scent of bramble sweets the air,
      Amid her folded sheets she lies,
    The gold of evening in her hair,
      The blue of morn shut in her eyes.

    How many a changing moon hath lit
      The unchanging roses of her face!
    Her mirror ever broods on it
      In silver stillness of the days.

    Oft flits the moth on filmy wings
      Into his solitary lair;
    Shrill evensong the cricket sings
      From some still shadow in her hair.

    In heat, in snow, in wind, in flood,
      She sleeps in lovely loneliness,
    Half folded like an April bud
      On winter-haunted trees.

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