Ariadne Waking

The moist and quiet moon was scarcely breaking,
When Ariadne in her bower was waking;
Her eyelids still were closing, and she heard 
But indistinctly yet a little bird. 
That in the leaves o'erhead, waiting the sun, 
Seemed answering another distant one. 
She waked but stirred not, only just to please
Her pillow-nestling cheek; while the full seas, 
The birds, the leaves, the lulling love o'ernight, 
The happy thought of the returning light, 
The sweet, self-willed content, conspired to keep 
Her senses lingering in the feel of sleep; 
And with a little smile she seemed to say, 
"I know my love is near me, and 'tis day."