The Sleeper

As Ann came in one summer's day,     She felt that she must creep, So silent was the clear cool house,     It seemed a house of sleep. And sure, when she pushed open the door,     Rapt in the stillness there, Her mother sat, with stooping head,     Asleep upon a chair; Fast - fast asleep; her two hands laid     Loose-folded on her knee, So that her small unconscious face     Looked half unreal to be: So calmly lit with sleep's pale light     Each feature was; so fair Her forehead - every trouble was     Smooth'd out beneath her hair. But though her mind in dream now moved,     Still seemed her gaze to rest From out beneath her fast-sealed lids,     Above her moving breast, On Ann, as quite, quite still she stood;     Yet slumber lay so deep Even her hands upon her lap     Seemed saturate with sleep. And as Ann peeped, a cloudlike dread     Stole over her, and then, On stealthy, mouselike feet she trod,     And tiptoed out again.