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The Sleeping Beauty

Topics: classic

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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"The scent of bramble sweets the air,..."

Walter De La Mare's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Sleeping Beauty"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

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"Have you been catching of fish, Tom Noddy?        ..."

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